The House of Gaunt
by Nanadeime
Summary: AU! Tom Riddle born on the last day of 1979 did not become a Dark Lord but still aspires to become the most powerful wizard in history. Ginny Weasley thinks that her best friend certainly has the potential. So she is along for the ride. Unfortunately Tom's Slytherin heritage is catching up and threatening everything they have built for themselves.
1. You-Know-Who

**Authors Note:** **Hello, welcome and thank you for giving this story a try. This is the first story I post (yay) and I would be really grateful if you'd share your thoughts with me. Criticism, suggestions, ideas etc. would be helpful and really appreciated. This is a M rated Gin'n'Tonic AU so expect Ginny and Tom, mature themes and a twist in Rowling's universe.**

 **Let's get this show on the road:**

* * *

 **Prologue: You-Know-Who  
**

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle was deep in thought.

If one were to add powdered asphodel to an infusion of wormwood AFTER bringing it to a slow boil, would one still create a Draught of the Living Dead or would the heat negate the effect of the asphodel? Would the potion derived from this process be useless or a milder form of the Sleeping Draught? But maybe if one were to crush the asphodel into a rough powder, the heat would integrate the powder, however not completely, and one would still end up with the Draught of the Living Dead? And if one would work with this hypothesis, what would happen if the asphodel was added whole? A stronger Sleeping Draught than the Draught of the Living Dead? Was this a possibility? How would a body react when ingesting such a potion? He had to test it, had to...

"What the fuck Riddle? Get your head out of the fucking clouds and wrap this up!"

Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody. Such a charming man. And he certainly had a way with words.

Sighing, Tom stored his thoughts on potion making for later reflection and focused back on his present situation. Right, Bellatrix Lestrange. The insane witch was dancing and twisting around him, her black locks in a wild disarray, eyes bulging out of her sockets and spittle flying from her mouth along with manic cackles and high pitched shrieks. Moreover, she was throwing Unforgivables at him like Dumbledore threw lemon drops at his favourite students.

Could one really fault him that, when faced with such an appalling sight, his thoughts drifted to more pleasurable pursuits?

'And certainly more challenging ones, too.' Tom thought sardonically.

Because for all her famed prowess on the battlefield Tom was simply bored out of his mind after only one minute of duelling her.

She was fast on her feet, certainly. Also seemed to have the stamina. And the power and accuracy behind her spells was indeed impressive.

'If only she would use more than the Unforgivables and the occasional Blood-Boiling-Curse. A shame, really. And here I was hoping for a challenge...'

Smiling wryly, Tom's wand of yew twitched in his hand.

Once. Bellatrix's wand flew out of her hand.

Twice. Iron shackles bound the witch, suppressing her magic.

Thrice. Because Tom really did not want to listen to her degenerated screams anymore.

Looking around he noticed that Moody had overpowered and bound her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange. The same fate had already met his brother, Rabastan, the last of the Lestrange trio. Ronald and Ginevra Weasley holding him at wand point.

"Showing off again, Riddle?"

Ronald. Yes, one could argue that their working relationship, though professional, was a bit...strained. It was a mutual dislike, born from their very first day at Hogwarts together and carrying on through three years of Auror training and four years being colleagues in the 'Special Homicide Division'. Though to be fair Tom completed his Auror training in only half the time and after working a while with the regular forces approached the Head Auror, Rufus Scrimgeour and the Head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones with the idea of a special unit, focusing on cases of homicide. Amelia Bones was smitten with the idea, and possibly also with Tom's charm. Scrimgeour was not. But ever the pragmatist Scrimgeour agreed in order to get the zealous Tom Riddle out of his hair and eliminating the young wizard's threat to his position. As an added incentive, the SHD was put under the supervision of Moody whom everyone thought... well, mad. Undoubtedly Scrimgeour hoped to put aside all the misfits and trouble-makers in the department, thus securing his position. Unfortunately for him this backfired spectacularly. There was not a single case the SHD didn't solve, not a single murderer who escaped. And the people simply loved them. Minister Fudge came regularly to bask in the glory of the "defenders of our community", as the Daily Prophet put it. Young Aurors entered the forces with the wish to be eventually accepted into the SHD, the Wizengamot bend their backs for them. Pay-raise? No problem. A secretary? Of course. Bigger office space? Naturally.

Yes, Tom Riddle thought he had it all. A job appropriate for his talents, power over fawning politicians, money, fame and according to Rita Skeeter also "cheekbones that cut right into every woman's heartstrings".

"Are you laughing at me Riddle?"

Ah, Weasley was still there. Pity. Tom's smug smile only widened, resulting in Weasley's face turning into an unbecoming red, clashing horribly with his hair.

"Shut it, Ron!"

Trust Ginevra to spoil his fun and judging by her glare, that lost its effect completely due to the twitching corners of her lips, knowing it too.

A single raised eyebrow conveyed his message: 'But he really is too easily riled up.'

Tom roughly translated her eye-roll and accompanied snort as: 'I know. I am his sister, duh.'

Their silent conversation was interrupted when they both quickly spun around, erecting a Shield Charm in a split second, having two stinging hexes crashing against them.

"Constant vigilance!" was Moody's barked reaction.

Maybe they should get back to the situation at hand. Lestrange manor. All three Lestranges subdued. The rest of their team down in the dungeons to free the muggleborn witches and wizards who were down there for a nice, little holiday of torture.

"Alastor, why don't Ginevra and I go down to the dungeons and look why the others are taking so long? I am sure Ronald and you have the situation in hand."

"Yes, you do that lass. And look out for traps, remember..."

"Constant vigilance!" Ginevra finished for him.

"None of your cheek Missy. Off you go." Moody's harsh words were contradicted by the gruesome sight of his scarred lips twisting into a smile.

"So what were you thinking about when you should have been duelling the banshee?" Ginevra inquired, while walking briskly by Tom's side in the direction of the dungeons.

"Powdered asphodel."

"Right...care to elaborate?"

"I may have thought of a method to enhance the potency of the Draught of the Living Dead. Of course I have to verify my suspicions with extensive experiments. However, I am confident that it is possible."

Ginevra mumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "You are sure that Snape and you are not related?".

Whatever clever comeback formed on the tip of Tom's tongue was never revealed because his name was called in a tone of voice usually only used when referred to deities.

Which was only appropriate in Tom's not so humble opinion.

"Tom, we were just about to send a patronus up to call you. We need your help."

"When don't you, Draco?"

Before Draco could try to find an answer to this purely rhetorical question, Ginevra decided to stop this train of thought before it fully left the station and asked in what way Tom's help was needed.

"We can not open the dungeons. We broke the main wards: anti-intruder, anti-portkey, the basic stuff. However there seems to be one ward left, stopping us from entering."

The 'we' in Draco's little speech referred to the rest of their team: Draco Malfoy, obviously, who caused quite the scandal among the pureblood elite when he decided to embark on a plebeian lifestyle after Hogwarts and work for his money. Maybe the first Malfoy to do so in several hundred years. Even though his parents voiced strong disapproval for their son working like some commoner at first, they now were quite proud of their son who showed 'strength of character', 'Slytherin ambition' and 'a sense of duty towards their community seldom found in one so young'. Apparently they always wanted Draco to embark on a career independent of the family fortune. Who knew? And if Lucius and Narcissa reached this conclusion after a long talk with Tom, who might have suggested that Draco working in the Ministry would help their public image and create new contacts and that, surely in a few years when Lucius decided to run for Minister, would come in quite handy, well who could fault them for their loving support?

Nymphadora Lupin, who preferred to be called by her maiden name of Tonks for reasons Tom never cared enough about to know. After her pregnancy and the birth of her son Scrimgeour decided to put her into the SHD because of her clumsiness and because he simply didn't like her. Rumour has it that the Head of their department is a closet racist and strongly disagreed with one of his Aurors marrying a werewolf. It was Scrimgeour's loss because -yes- she is clumsy and Tom could hardly tolerate her cheerful and constant chatter but she is also the only current Metamorphmagus in Britain and despite being a Hufflepuff, quite the accomplished duellist. Must be the Black blood in her, for her mother Andromeda was a daughter of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, who decided that she didn't want to stay 'Toujours Pour' and married a muggleborn, getting herself disowned in the process.

The last member of their team was only slightly more tolerable than Ronald in Tom's opinion. Which placed him somewhere between a flobberworm and a garden gnome. Harry Potter also went to Hogwarts the same year Tom and the youngest Weasley boy did. Together with a muggleborn witch, Hermione Granger (who Draco lovingly called the 'mudblood know-it-all' in private) they were called the 'Golden Trio' by their fellow Gryffindors. With what unprecedented feat they acquired this nickname would perhaps forever elude Tom. Ronald's intelligence was sub par, his spell work mediocre and his manners non-existent. Granger was at least somewhat intelligent but terribly self-assured of her own intelligence and superior morality (Tom clearly remembered her quest to free the Hogwarts House-Elves). Potter was a decent duellist but his only real talent lay in Quidditch. And playing childish pranks. And being obnoxious. And being self-righteous. And...Tom really could fill books with things detailing Potter's inferiority.

While he went down a trip on memory lane, Ginevra had taken a closer look at the ward, blocking the dungeon doors.

"It's a blood ward. Only those keyed in can pass. To deactivate them we'll need a small amount of compatible blood and then we can deactivate it with standard ward breaking methods."

"Blood wards are illegal.", Potter declared with furrowed brows.

"Yes, who would have thought we'd find anything illegal here?" Draco could never pass up on an opportunity to bait Potter or his friends.

Potter gritted his teeth: "What I was trying to say Malfoy..."

"Boys break it up! While you bicker the people down there are waiting for us to help them." Motherhood apparently had an effect on Tonks.

"Ok, Draco or Tonks. If one of you would?"

Ginevra's announcement and outstretched hand was met with silence and three blank faces.

"Err, Ginny why Tonks or Draco?"

In situations such as this one Tom dearly hoped that Potter would do the world a favour and would never produce offspring.

"Well, who is probably keyed into the ward? Think, Potter."

The raven haired male visibly bristled at Tom's tone but bit out: "The Lestranges. But this doesn't help us because..."

"Because you obviously lack the capacity to think. I am aware."

"You bastard...you..."

"Tom! Harry! Stop it! Now!"

"Ginny!", Potter sounded positively scandalized, "He always belittles everyone and acts like he is the second coming of Merlin himself. I won't stand for this anymore..."

"I know Harry but Tonks is right: now is not the time. Bring it up with Moody after the mission. Tom can you explain without insulting everyone or shall I?"

"I shall refrain from further comments on Potter's substandard intelligence.", because he was feeling generous today. "All three Lestranges are probably keyed into the ward. Bellatrix Lestrange, however, does not have Lestrange blood since she married into the family. She was born a Black. Meaning the ward should also be compatible with Black blood. And who here is part of this illustrious family through their mothers?"

Draco and Tonks glanced sheepishly at each other.

"One tries to forget any blood relation to Bellatrix.", the Malfoy heir declared.

"What a charmingly dysfunctional family we are, cousin Draco.", the Metamorphmagus tried to joke.

The blond tried to scowl at Tonks' familiarity but he was fooling no one. Publicly Narcissa Malfoy may have denounced her 'muggle-loving' sister and expressed no wish to meet her niece but in reality the two sisters visited regularly for tea and gossip. It was an open secret among the pureblood elite.

"So who of you will do the honours?", Ginevra inquired again.

Draco held out his hand, palm facing up and with a slice of Ginevra's wand a cut appeared. With a clench of his fist several drops of blood dripped onto the ward line. While the skin on Draco's palm knit back together, Tom twisted and pulled on the strings of magic composing the ward. For a blood ward the design appeared to be rather simple, comparable to a braid. It seemed the Lestranges felt secure in their belief that the ward would hold as long as it was protected by their blood. How naive. With a last twirl of his wand Tom unravelled the last strand of magic and the ward disintegrated.

* * *

It was nearing midnight when all members of the 'Special Homicide Division' met in their meeting room at the Ministry in order to wrap up their final report on the Lestrange case. After the wards in the dungeons were down the prisoners had to be identified and they received basic medical attention. While Tonks, Draco and Potter then proceeded to bring them to St. Mungo's with a pre prepared portkey, Tom and Ginevra used the time to check the dungeons for further evidence. Not that they needed it. The Lestrange trio would almost certainly receive the Dementor's Kiss. Meanwhile Moody and Ronald secured the captured trio at the Ministry's holding cells and returned to check the rest of the mansion for anything incriminating enough to be used by the prosecution when the two wizards and the witch were to be tried. After they were through with the manor it was put under Ministry wards, enabling anyone from entering. In theory. Because Tom was sure these standard Ministry wards were meant as a joke.

'Luckily for society I refrained from a career as a criminal.', Tom silently mused.

Later Ginevra and her brother went to catalogue the gathered evidence. The others were still at St. Mungo's questioning the victims and waiting for the Healer's written reports. This meant Moody and Tom would have a little chat with their three guests. Under the influence of Veritaserum they confessed everything in gory detail.

All in all the case was closed for them. The criminals were caught, the victims freed, the evidence gathered. Were it not for the ultimate bureaucratic obligation of pouring every minuscule detail into forms and reports, Tom would already be at home testing his theory on the potency of the Draught of the Living Dead. Alas, sacrifices were necessary to appease the monster known as the Ministry of Magic, which fed off completely useless and redundant paperwork.

"All right, that's it. Everybody sign and then you can go home. Good work.", Moody had to be quite tired if he was this generous with his praise.

"Say Tom, what are your plans for tonight?", Draco inquired.

"Well, it occurred to me today that there might be a possibility to enhance the potency of the Draught of the Living Dead by..."

"Tooooooooooom! Don't be a bore!"

Tom, quite frankly, failed to see what would be boring about testing a new and potentially revolutionary potions theory. But Draco was funny like that.

"And what do you propose as an alternative form of night time entertainment?"

The Malfoy heir smirked, "Glad you asked. There is this new club in Knockturn Alley and everyone will be there tonight. Pansy simply ordered me to bring you." This was accompanied by a rather childish waggling of Draco's eyebrows.

"And why exactly should I follow orders from the likes of Parkinson?", it seemed his former House mates forgot their place. No matter, he simply had to remind them what was acceptable behaviour when dealing with him.

"It wasn't meant as an order, more like a...suggestion. And come on, you know what this means."

Of course Tom did know. However he wanted the pleasure of watching Draco squirm, while trying to say that Parkinson wanted Tom to bed her, without actually using the words. Not that Tom had any intention of doing it. He'd get nothing out of it. Pansy Parkinson, while not unattractive wasn't a great beauty either. Her family was neither particularly rich or influential. And the only interesting grimoire out of their family library, had fallen into Tom's hands when he did actually bed her, back in their sixth year. And that particular incident was so unsatisfying that Tom vowed he'd only ever sleep with her again if he'd get a Founder's item out of it. And if black-mail, coercion and stealing wouldn't work beforehand.

"No, Draco I don't know what this means. Please enlighten me."

"Well...uh...Pansy...I mean she...and you..."

"Is Pug-Face your girlfriend, Riddle?", By Merlin and Morgana if Ronald wasn't Ginevra's brother, and she for some unfathomable reason fond of him, he'd have had a potentially lethal accident years ago. That and everybody would immediately suspect him. And Ronald Weasley would never be the reason Tom Riddle went to Azkaban.

"As if!", scoffed Ginevra. Forcefully. Now that was...interesting.

"Your sister is right, Ronald. Ginevra knows my cold and shrivelled heart beats only for her. Alas, she rejects my every overture.", Tom sighed dramatically.

Silence. In which Ronald took the opportunity to mimic a gold fish rather accurately, opening and closing his mouth in rapid succession. Draco and Tonks smirked. Moody rolled his good eye. Potter's eyes grew so large, that Tom feared for a moment he would have to put them back in his head by magic. And Ginevra...blushed? Indeed, her cheeks turned a lovely rosy colour, hiding the freckles around her nose and contrasting with the rest of her milky skin. Tom was...thrilled. Maybe he should be worried that after all those years her blushes started to affect him but he would rather focus on making her blush more often. In the last few months, he found that Ginevra's blushes produced the most delightful warmth low in his stomach. Like a pint of warm butterbeer. It was a guilty pleasure he allowed himself to have. Others listened to Wizard Soap Operas on the radio, he would make Ginevra blush. No big deal.

"You stay away from Ginny...You hear me Riddle?", so Ronald did not have an apoplectic attack and unfortunately regained his ability to speak. Life simply wasn't fair sometimes.

"Circe, Ron calm down. Tom is pulling your leg.", Tonks laughed.

"Oh...", with great relief Tom noted that Ronald's blushes had no effect on him whatsoever, except mild disgust maybe. Otherwise he surely would have needed the help of a professional mind healer.

"And what exactly are you still doing here kiddos? I think I said you can go.", With those words Moody complimented them out of the office into the empty halls of the ministry. The group walked leisurely toward the lifts. Draco was whining, trying to convince Tom to go to this club with him. Ginevra asked Tonks questions about her little son, gushing over pictures of the little metamorphmagus. Ronald and Potter were quiet. Suspiciously so. Tom glanced at them. Ronald gave Potter, what appeared to be, encouraging looks and occasional pats on the back. Potter seemed to be steeling himself, drawing deep breaths and clenching his jaw. The last time he looked this ridiculous was right before their potion N.E.W.T's. What in the name of magic was Potter up to? Although Draco was often childish and immature he was also a Slytherin and therefore noticed Ronald's and Potter's abnormal behaviour. With a pale raised brow he silently asked Tom's opinion. As an answer Tom shrugged imperceptibly. While they waited for the lift to arrive Draco decided to lay the bait:

"Nervous, Potter? You look like a horde of dark wizards is waiting in the Atrium."

"Shut up, Malfoy! I'm just tired."

Of course. And Tom admired Dumbledore's fashion sense. This was interesting. Not that Tom cared about Potter's private life but every weakness he could use against him he would. With a great show of nonchalance Potter leaned against the wall and addressed Ginevra:

"Say Ginny: what are you doing tomorrow evening? It's just if you don't have any plans I thought we could have a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks."

Well, now Tom did care. This was preposterous. Potter acted like a third-year asking his crush out to Hogsmeade for the first time. And Ronald was nodding his head vigorously in the background as a show of support. Besides Ginevra was his best friend. First friend. Only friend maybe if Tom discounted Draco. She would never go out with this pathetic excuse of a wizard, knowing that Tom despised him since Hogwarts...

"Sorry Harry. But tomorrow I'm meeting Tom for our weekly catch-up. Some other time maybe."

"Oh, okay...sure..."

The arrival of the lift saved them all from further embarrassment. To be honest Tom had forgotten that his weekly meeting with Ginevra was the next day but he certainly wouldn't complain. And if he wouldn't have showed up, Ginevra would have tracked him down. Wouldn't be the first time.

'That's right Potter. My company is always preferable to yours.', he thought with great relish.

* * *

 _1st September 1992, Hogwarts Express  
_

 _Slowly platform 9 3/4 was filling with people. Mothers tearfully hugged their children goodbye. Owls hooted and cats nearly tripped people. Young Tom Riddle sneered from his window seat in an empty compartment. He had arrived an hour before, every minute not spend at the orphanage was a blessing after all, and promptly changed into his school robes. The green and silver striped tie knotted perfectly, robes with the serpent emblem without a crease and dark chestnut hair neatly parted, he was the epitome of a pureblood heir. Unfortunately he wasn't. Riddle wasn't a pureblood name after all. A fact that he had quickly learned during his first night in the Slytherin dormitories. Mudblood they had called him, insinuated that he didn't belong, that he was inferior to them. He would show them, prove them that he was better, that they were inferior to him. True to this resolution Tom Riddle had taken Hogwarts by storm. Top of all classes, nearly winning all their house points alone, favourite of every teacher: so talented, so charming, so helpful. Quickly he had made a name for himself around school. The other houses envied Slytherin for this perfect student and outside of the Slytherin common room the other snakes did not attack him. Within the privacy of the dungeons however, he was still scorned, ridiculed and attacked. While the upper years were more reserved in their antagonism the other first years seemed to view making his life harder as some form of crusade. Trying to hex him while he slept. This only led him to look up and cast protection wards around his bed. Stealing, hiding and destroying clothes and books from his trunk, motivated Tom to put a neat little curse on his things, which would give the person who touched them without his permission painful, electrical shocks. Throwing hexes and jinxes at his back while he sat studying in the common room resulted in Tom perfecting a variety of shield charms. Despite all their failed attempts they never seemed to learn, so Tom decided to give them a lesson they wouldn't forget. During his life Tom had already learned several truths that were far beyond comprehension of other 12 year-old children. Number one: people fear and revere power. This lesson became clear to him after he had hung Billy Stubbs' rabbit from the rafters. They knew it was him but didn't know how, they couldn't prove it. And that made them angry. But also so, so afraid. They older children stayed far away from him after that, their eyes wary and downcast, never meeting his own piercing blue ones. When they talked about him in hushed tones their fear hung heavy in the air, like smoke so thick Tom could taste it on his tongue. But beneath their suffocating fear lay an undercurrent of something else: adoration. They realised Tom could do things they couldn't do, couldn't even comprehend. And faced with Tom's strange powers came the wish to get a share of them, to profit from them. Soon they drowned in the heady essence of fear and adoration, instead of bothering him or calling him names they started working for him: if they stole a certain book for Tom from the local library, he would open the safe were the confiscated cigarettes of the older teens were stored. If they gave up their pocket money, he would break into the local liquor store at night for them. They probably convinced themselves that this was a partnership but Tom knew better. He called the shots. And he gladly reminded them of this fact when it became necessary.  
_

 _Lesson number two: cut down the leader and the rest will follow. This he learned when Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop got expectations of grandeur. They thought they could lead and Tom would follow. How mistaken they were. Nevertheless during the summer before he learned he was a wizard, Tom had a small mutiny on his hands. Some children did not want to do his bidding anymore, hiding behind Amy and Dennis for protection. And the two simpletons fancied themselves as the ones in power. Then came the orphanage's yearly trip to the sea. It was easy to convince Amy and Dennis to follow him into the cave at low tide. He was terribly persuasive after all. They thought they could scare him down there, maybe rough him up a bit. How foolish. How naive. Since that day the two rarely spoke again and fell obediently back in line. Tom admitted to himself that he maybe went a bit too far. After all the old hag Cole noticed that Amy and Dennis were a bit...traumatized. But Tom achieved what he set out to do: since the cave incident nobody questioned his supremacy again._

 _It was time that his Slytherin year mates went through the same learning process the children at Wool's did. That Tom had power way beyond them was an irrefutable fact. For maximum impression Tom looked up some flashy curses in the library. Nothing forbidden but borderline dark...and painful. To identify their leader was easy: Draco Malfoy swaggered around the castle if he owned it, his two gorillas Crabbe and Goyle always in tow. He was the instigator behind all pranks on Tom, loudly questioning his blood-status and bragging about his family's money and influence. Tom supposed that Draco was sufficiently talented and powerful. After putting him in his place he'd make a useful follower. One evening while Draco held court with the other first years in front of the fireplace in the common room, Tom deemed the stage set. It had started to snow that day and rather then spent the day outdoors, the majority of Slytherin house preferred to spent the evening inside. Just as well, after this no one in Slytherin would dare to question Tom's power ever again._

 _"Malfoy!", Tom practically cooed. The fact that this was a necessary lesson for his house mates, didn't mean that Tom couldn't enjoy himself._

 _"What do you want, Mudblood?"_

 _By now the common room had turned silent with anticipation of the impending confrontation._

 _"Just a chat, Malfoy, just a chat. It has come to my attention that there seems to be a misunderstanding. And we can't have that, can we?"_

 _"A misunderstanding?", the blonde sneered. "And what about?"_

 _"Well, you seem to be under the misapprehension that it is acceptable to try and hex me, to steal and destroy my things, to call me names. I merely wish to rectify this."_

 _The Malfoy heir laughed a dirty little laugh and many Slytherins snickered along._

 _"What are you going to do about it, Riddle?"_

 _"What indeed?", Tom felt into himself, drawing, coaxing his magic out. He didn't need a wand, he had always willed his magic to do his bidding, even before he knew what his power was. For a moment nothing happened and some students began muttering in the background wanting the fight to go ahead. Truth was, the fight was already over. Malfoy's breathing became laboured, his hands loosened his tie and popped open the first button of his shirt. Sweat started to form over his pale eyebrows.  
_

 _"What are... you doing?", he rasped. "Stop...it..."_

 _A dark and sinister grin spread across Tom's face, shocking many a bystander. This boy who grinned sharply with too many teeth and had a dark abyss beyond his pupils couldn't possibly be the same boy who smiled so prettily and charmed the teachers with words drenched in honey._

 _"Make me."_

 _By now sweat ran in little rivulets over Malfoy's face. He opened and closed his mouth in long, raspy breaths in an effort to gulp oxygen into his lungs. Standing up only made the world spin before the Malfoy heir's eyes and in a tangle of robes and limbs he crashed to the floor. Pansy Parkinson screamed and Crabbe and Goyle tried to take threatening steps toward Tom. Before they took their second step, Tom's magic lashed out at them, throwing them over the entire length of the common room. With a sickening crack they hit the stone wall and crumpled to the floor in large, meaty heaps. Meanwhile Malfoy's face had turned rather blue and his eyes had rolled so far back, that only the white was visible. Murmurs went through the crowd:_

 _"...without a wand..."_

 _"...feel the magic..."_

 _"...dark...powerful..."_

 _"...what spell is this..."_

 _"...impossible...first year..."_

 _When Malfoy's legs started twitching a few older years, friends and relatives of the other first years, pulled out their wands and shot colourful spells at Tom. Casually the blue-eyed boy let his own wand drop from his sleeve into his hand and retaliated. When the last spell colour faded two third-years, one fourth-year and one fifth-year lay on the ground covered in burns, rashes, boils, cuts and bruises. One first-year remained standing._

 _"I think," Tom softly spoke into the quiet, "that I have effectively made my point, why it is not acceptable to harass me."_

 _With one sweep of yew, Malfoy's lungs mercifully filled with air. In his haste to consume as much of the blessed, life granting sustenance the boy nearly choked on his own saliva and his crumpled form was wrecked with harsh coughing fits._

 _"Now that this misunderstanding is out of our way I hope our future interactions will be more pleasurable, Malfoy."_

 _From this evening onwards dynamics changed in Slytherin house. Tom had become the undisputed king of the first-years and all older students also showed the proper deference to him. Suddenly his blood status didn't seem to matter anymore. His power and intelligence were prizes that the other Slytherins coveted. Everyone wanted a piece of Tom, his attention, his favour. Malfoy, predictably, took some time to come around. First he was afraid, becoming white as a ghost as soon as Tom looked at him and trying to not be in a room with him alone. Then Draco took to sulking, throwing pouting glances when Tom sat in the common room surrounded by other Slytherins. Finally he seemed to realize that -no- the dynamics would not change back to what they were, and -yes- if he wanted to amount to something in Slytherin House he would have to get back into Tom's good graces. This Draco tried to achieve by surreptitiously sitting near Tom in class, in the library, in the Great Hall and the common room. When this action did not result in negative repercussions he started to take part in talking to Tom again, asking his opinion on everything from politics to Quidditch and not so subtly flattering him. Much to Tom's amusement, who then decided that the Malfoy heir had properly atoned for his sins and would now get a chance to show how he could be useful. Surprisingly Draco, once properly guided and taught by Tom, showed great promise underneath his exterior of a spoilt and whiny child. He had a natural grasp for the art of potion making, courtesy of his Godfather Severus Snape, the famous potion master, a profound understanding of politics and social dynamics and was quite a talented dueller, who had no problem with learning spells that the Hogwarts curriculum considered too unsavoury for its students. All in all Draco quickly made his way to the top again, becoming Tom's right hand man, thus gaining authority over the other Slytherins. Moreover Tom found himself surprised that he also started to enjoy the vicious humour of the blond and his never ending quest to make life for their Gryffindor year mates unbearable.  
_

 _And now Tom was sitting in an empty compartment of the Hogwarts Express, before his second year at school, waiting. The others would come to him. As soon as this thought finished, the compartment door banged open. However it wasn't a fellow Slytherin who entered but a little girl with the reddest hair Tom had ever seen._

 _"Oh excuse me, mind if I sit here?", the red head asked and without waiting for a reply plopped into the opposite seat. "Thank you I have to hide from my brothers or I might actually murder them. They act like nesting dragons and I am the egg just because I'm the youngest and the only girl, you know?"_

 _Tom certainly did not know but was spared an answer by his new companion who appeared to be under the conviction that she could prattle on._

 _"Are you a first year too? What house do you think you'll be in? I think I'll be in Gryffindor, my whole family has been there. But I think the other houses might be alright too, except Slytherin.", she spoke and wrinkled her freckled nose._

 _Now Tom felt insulted, first this girl disregarded his personal space and displayed an astonishing amount of lack of manners and then she managed to insult him and his house. All in under three minutes._

 _"I am starting my second year. I am in Slytherin.", Tom ground out with a rather pointed glance towards his silver and green tie._

 _"Oh...", the girls face took on the colour of a ripe tomato. " I mean Slytherin is not a bad house per se but um, well..."_

 _"Well what?"_

 _"Well, my brothers said every evil wizard has been in Slytherin and they are all rich and spoilt snobs and are all totally into this blood supremacy nonsense.", proclaimed the girl and met his gaze defiantly._

 _Tom did not know what drove him to the spirited defence of his house. Maybe the fact that it was the first place he considered a real home. Or the fact that his comrades in Slytherin served to amuse him and were rather useful. Or the fact that he strongly identified himself with the ideals of his house: ambition, cunning, cleverness._

 _"The same brothers who act like nesting dragons? You said they are in Gryffindor so their issue with my house might be a simple case of house rivalry. And while I have to concede that there are many students from old families with rather conservative views on the issue of blood supremacy, to say that we are all rich and spoilt blood supremacists is a terrible generalization. Same as saying, for example, that all Gryffindors are brash and arrogant. Besides I am neither well off nor a pureblood," as much as it hurt to admit that " and still am in Slytherin. On the issue of all evil wizards being Slytherins, this is a misconception. Granted many Slytherins are more open-minded concerning Dark Magic but in most cases it is more of a family tradition. Besides Dark Magic does not equal evil. And concerning Slytherin alumni: do you know why the Order of the Merlin, first class is presented on a green band? Because Merlin himself was most likely in Slytherin and you wouldn't call him an evil wizard, would you?"_

 _At the end of his little speech Tom realized that he was slightly out of breath. He could not remember when he last had been this impassioned about something. If ever. The girl, however, sat wide eyed and gaping, displaying a mix of intrigue, scepticism, embarrassment and defiance._

 _"So you are saying Dark Magic isn't evil?", she finally exclaimed with an air of disbelief about her._

 _"Yes I am. The issue most people have with the Dark Arts is that they believe that they solely consist of spells designed to hurt and kill. Magic in itself however is all about intent. I could maim or kill with legal spells just as easily if I put my mind to it. In fact I could use spells Hogwarts students learn in their first year, Diffindo for example to cut someone's throat or main arteries or Incendio to set somebody on fire. Furthermore what the Ministry considers Dark Magic and real Dark Magic are two different things. The Ministry for example includes every kind of Blood Magic into the Dark Arts, when in reality Blood Magic is only really old, practised by the druids of old and is still legal in many countries, most notably in Africa and South America."_

 _The red head seemed speechless. "How do you know all this?"_

 _"Books.", was Tom's dry reply._

 _"And you are not making this up?"_

 _"Check for yourself if you don't believe me. In fact check for yourself anyway and don't just go and repeat widespread opinion just because it is politically correct."_

 _The girl seemed less defiant and more genuinely curious now. "You said intent matters but with what good intention can one use Blood Magic?"_

 _"Warding for one. Blood wards only admit people with the same or nearly the same blood. The druids for example used it to protect their family homes or local villages. Another discipline involving Blood Magic is Healing. Blood of family members can enhance the potency of different healing potions and blood willingly sacrificed by family or friends can counter act several curses."_

 _"Wow...I didn't know that. You would make a really good teacher, you know?"_

 _But before Tom could answer the compartment door opened again and Malfoy entered._

 _"Tom! I hope you had a pleasant summer and...", the boy with the silver blond hair trailed off when his eyes fell on the red head opposite Tom._

 _"And what do we have here?", Draco sneered, "Hand me down robes, freckles and red hair. You must be another Weasley. Merlin, how many of you are there?"_

 _A Weasley? As in the stiff fifth-year Gryffindor Peter or something? As in the Weasley twins, the bane of every teachers existence? As in Ronald Weasley the blundering idiot in their year? Well, the red hair and the talk about several brothers should have clued him in but Tom supposed that he was quite distracted by their conversation. And he didn't necessarily mind._

 _The red haired girl tossed her fiery curls over her shoulder with a dramatic flair and managed to look at Malfoy like he was something under her shoe. "Yes I am a Weasley. And since you are a blond ponce you must be a Malfoy. Tell me is this your natural hair colour or do you bleach?", she inquired with a saccharine smile._

 _Involuntary the corner of Tom's lips curled up. The girl had spirit._

 _"Why you...", Draco's pale complexion had acquired some colour now and his sneer threatened to become permanent._

 _"Draco, behave!"_

 _"But Tom, she is a Weasley!", this was said as if it explained everything. And for Draco it probably did. The feud between the Weasley's and Malfoy's was common knowledge after all. And going by the Weasleys Tom did personally know it would have, too. But, possibly against every rule of the universe, Tom did not mind this particular Weasley. Au contrair, he did find that he quite enjoyed talking and explaining things to her. Maybe he really had teaching potential._

 _"Yes Draco, behave!", cooed the female Weasley sweetly. Suddenly her head snapped back to Tom so fast that he feared for a moment that she would snap her own neck. "Wait, your name is Tom?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"And you are a second year Slytherin and hang out with Malfoy?"_

 _"Obviously.", where was she going with this?_

 _With a cat that got the canary grin she then asked: "You are not Tom Riddle by any chance, are you?"_

 _"Yes I am.", he narrowed his eyes. "Is this a problem?"_

 _"Merlin, no!", she laughed gaily, "This is brilliant, actually. Ron couldn't shut up about you this summer. Always going on about what a stuck up prick you are. But Percy said that you are a genius. And Fred and George said they tried to prank you but never succeeded so it must be true.", with a spring in her steps she made for the compartment door, "Just wait until I tell Ron that I had a nice chat with you and actually found you quite nice. Maybe he'll get an aneurysm."_

 _Totally ignoring Draco she left the compartment._

 _"Wait!", Tom called out._

 _"Huh?", her head appeared back into the compartment._

 _"I didn't catch your name."_

 _"Oh. The name's Ginny."_

* * *

 **And that's the prologue. Reviews would be really appreciated.  
**

 **Chapter 1: The Dark Mark will be up on Sunday January, 22.**


	2. The Dark Mark

**Chapter 1: The Dark Mark**

* * *

When Tom returned to his flat above a second-hand bookshop on the border of Knockturn Alley, he was immediately accosted by a flurry of black feathers and giant wings. Apparently his black eagle owl, a thoughtful present of the Malfoy family, felt neglected in his absence. Amused Tom held out his arm and let the bird settle on his forearm, stroking his feathers and beak. If Tom was honest with himself he could appreciate the likeness between his owl and himself: both did not like to be ignored, tended to not get along with others and were vastly superior compared to others of their species. At Hogwarts his owl took to attacking other owls and even devoured a few smaller ones, not that the distraught owners could ever prove that their pets were exterminated by Tom's owl. Thus his black eagle owl was aptly named Hades, after the Greek god of the Underworld. Speaking of pets...

"Nagini...", Tom hissed.

"Yes master.", majestically Nagini slithered out of the bedroom, her six foot long body clad in green scales. "Was your hunt successful, master? Did you catch your prey?"

"Of course, my dear. It was rather disappointing in the end, too easy.", that it was but Tom had yet to meet an opponent who could seriously challenge him. While the Lestranges were competent wizards, they did not manage to get Tom to go all out, to get creative. Sometimes Tom wished there would be someone who would provide a real challenge. Who could match his intellect and magical prowess and would provide an exhilarating chase. Alas, the Lestranges appeared to be the crop of the crème as far as murdering lunatics went and Tom had to take refuge in the knowledge that his current occupation was only one step in a much bigger game, that would prove to be much more interesting and challenging. Yes, Tom had great plans and he would not be stopped.

"Take me with you next time.", the female snake demanded imperiously, " I will bite your prey and watch them withering on the floor in pain."

Tom chuckled. Nagini's bloodlust never ceased to entertain him. "Of course my dear. My enemies will cower in fear before you."

"As they should.", Nagini spoke and curled herself around in front of the fireplace.

Not that Tom had any plans to actually take Nagini with him. No one knew that he was a Parselmouth after all. Except Ginevra and a few of his more trusted Slytherin associates. It wasn't that Tom wanted to hide the fact that he could speak the ancient language of serpents, in reality he was quite proud about it because it only proved his link to Salazar Slytherin himself. However, Parseltongue was still regarded with weariness and a dash of fear by a majority of society and Parselmouths were automatically seen as evil and mentally unstable. In regards to his so-called family this assumptions were definitely true.

'Don't think about them. They are all dealt with. It is in the past.', Tom tried to calm himself but the thought of his uncle, this pitiful excuse of a wizard, dirty and cross-eyed, nothing more than an animal, still made his blood boil. The great legacy of Salazar Slytherin had become nothing more than a brutish inbreed. And if he were to think on his dirty muggle family... His fucking muggle father and his snobbish, entitled grand-parents. They had the gall to look down on him with their money and fancy estate. They left his mother to die in squalor and him in this shit-hole of an orphanage. But he had shown them, shown them what he was capable of, true power that they couldn't even comprehend with their tiny muggle minds...

'Calm yourself!', he ordered himself sternly, 'I had my revenge and now they are only memories of the past.'

In order to escape his inner turmoil Tom started to mechanically set up his cauldron and started the process of brewing. Chopping, grinding, stirring and measuring. Repeat. Chopping, grinding, stirring and measuring. Repeat. Tom's mind was singularly set upon his task, mentally analysing and categorizing the proprieties of the different components of the Draught of the Living Dead. Engrossed in his experimentations Tom failed to notice the flow of time. The sky turned from black to indigo, from indigo to rosé, from rosé to pastel blue. All around Tom's potions set-up papers lay scattered on the floor, full of notes in an elegant script, documenting all failed attempts of maximizing the potency of the Draught of the Living Dead. Finally, on the twenty-first try, Tom had the feeling that he was onto something. The surface of the potion shimmered in an opaque silver colour, slightly lighter than the usual colouring of the Draught of the Living Dead, and the normally underlying scent of lavender hung more noticeable around the room. Satisfied, Tom extinguished the flames under the cauldron.

'Well, according to my chemical equations this ought to work. Now on how to test it...' This part of Tom's project proved to be a bit difficult. Of course he could not drink his concoction himself in case he did make a mistake. And naturally he could not give the draught to any witch or wizard from the streets if he did not want to explain himself to the authorities. How any new potions were ever distributed to the wider public, Tom did not know. If he didn't care so much about his impeccable reputation he would simply snatch some muggles from the streets, test the potion and give the muggles a nice, warm Obliviate. Unfortunately this was also heavily frowned upon, if not considered outright illegal. Really, there were billions and billions of muggles, what were they good for, if they couldn't even be used to further wizarding society?

Sighing and shaking his head in consternation, Tom bottled up his improved version of the Draught of the Living Dead, vanishing the remains and cleaning out the cauldron with a flick of his wand. The numerous parchments full of notes, detailing the process of creating the concoction were ordered and tidily stacked. This not being the first instance in which Tom proved his brilliance in potion making, as in everything else really, he knew how to publish his discovery. Two words: Severus Snape. Severus Snape was the Head of the Potions section in the Department of Mysteries, youngest Potions Master in Britain for a century, Draco's godfather and all around misanthrope. Tom met Severus Snape in his fifth year during one of Professor Slughorn's infernal soirées. His Head of House had been Snape's teacher and had been trying to get the man to one of his parties since Tom started school. In an impressive show of tenacity Snape managed to dodge and deflect all of Slughorn's attempts. However, one could not escape Slughorn's collecting habits forever. Thus Snape found himself back at his Alma Mater during Slughorn's Christmas party in Tom's fifth year, clad in exclusively black robes and looking for all the world like he would rather bathe in Bubotuber Puss than interact with any of the guests. Tom and Snape got along like a house on fire. After subtly insulting each other, seizing each other up, measuring their opponent's intelligence, wit and usefulness in a verbal sparring match. Like the true Slytherins they were. When their mutual dislike of everyone and everything was established they talked about theoretical aspects of potion making and how the other attendees of this party had the misconception that they were actually intelligent and important individuals. All in all, Tom was relieved to know that people like Snape existed, disproving his long held believe that a modicum of intelligence was impossible to find in people these days. Their mutual tolerance of the others company did not went unnoticed. This became clear when Ginevra decided to interrupt their conversation by whistling a wedding march. She was rewarded for her efforts by two glares that would even turn basilisks to stone but went completely over her head. In all honesty Tom would have liked to stay some more and continue this stimulating conversation but since Ginevra had decided that they were friends and consequently had to do things that friends did -what these things would be Tom did not know, since the concept of friendship was still not entirely clear to him and he had to solely rely on Ginevra's word when it came to friendly human interaction, and didn't this open doors for her to completely trick him into things he would rather not partake in, all under the guise of this friendship business?- like helping the other out of uncomfortable situations. So Tom had to cut his interaction with the first interesting human being since forever short and serve his friend in his white knight capacity. Like Lancelot he rescued Lady Guinevere from mortal danger or more accurately from gossip and a reputation as a trollop, since the boy she brought with her -this average in every aspect Corner from Ravenclaw, really?- suffered under the misapprehension that she was more breakable than a Bowtruckle and thus should not converse with the attending vampire because it was dangerous, or with the Captain of the Holyhead Harpies since Quidditch was really unladylike, or... well the point had been made and the poor sod was one comment away from being on the business end of Ginevra's wand. Which tended to hurt, one only had to had ask Draco who spent the night in the Hospital Wing, courtesy of Ginevra's Bat-Boogey-Hex. Ironically the act of hexing Draco into next week for calling Granger a mudblood had resulted in her invitation for the night because Slughorn was more impressed with Ginevra's abilities than concerned for Draco's health. All evidence withstanding, her date for the evening did not get the memo that he attended with Ginevra Weasley and not some protagonist of an 18th century romance novel. Thus, Tom escorted her back to Gryffindor tower before she could put another victim into the Hospital Wing in the span of 24 hours. In the end Tom got an intellectually challenging correspondent, who additionally also worked at the Ministry, out of the evening and Ginevra all the teenage angst that comes with first relationships. While Tom exchanged letters with Snape from then on, Ginevra and Corner exchanged saliva and insults in equal measure. It was highly entertaining to watch this slap-slap-kiss dynamic where the little cretin didn't even realize that he was completely inferior to Ginevra in every way. That didn't stop Tom, however, from engineering a little accident when the miscreant overstepped the line and tried to humiliate Ginevra by licking Cho Chang's tonsils in the Great Hall. It was what any friend would do, Tom was a fast learner after all. For his efforts he got a grumbling from Ginevra about how she could have taken care of that herself, a high-five from the Weasley twins and an admonishment from Dumbledore complete with reproachful looks and grandfatherly disappointment -"And really Tom, Mr. Corner could have been seriously injured... that was very immature and irresponsible...of course I have to deduct points and give you detention...I am not so sure anymore if you really deserve the privileges that come with being prefect...since this is the first time you committed such a breach of rules we won't talk about expulsion..."- that naturally encouraged him to re-think his actions and do a bit of soul searching and prompted him to become a better person and eat less red meat and drink less coffee...not. While Dumbledore treated him like he had murdered little girls in remote bathrooms -and, funnily enough, he could if fancy struck him since he found Salazar's nifty little chamber, complete with a personalized killer snake- the rest of the school did not judge his actions with the same severity as Dumbledore did but rather thought Corner got what he deserved.

Tom's reminiscence of days past was interrupted by an embarrassing sound produced by his stomach, reminding him of an enraged Hungarian Horntail. With mild surprise he registered the feeling of hunger. It wasn't uncommon for him to forget everything around him when focused on a task and apparently he had done it again. A quick Tempus told him that he did not only run without food and sleep for over 24 hours but that he was also late for his meeting with Ginevra. As if on cue a knock on his door caught his attention. Speaking of the metaphorical red-haired devil...

"You look like you haven't slept and properly not eaten either. I sincerely hope that you were at least successful in whatever you have done otherwise you'll be moody for the rest of the evening.", were the words with which she greeted him at the door.

"No, I haven't and yes, I was."

"Great. Take a shower then and we'll get going."

"Yes, mother.", he answered with a wry smile, while starting to unbutton his shirt.

"Don't get cheeky with me sonny.", she winked and caught his shirt.

* * *

 _Hogwarts, September 20th, 1992_

 _Ginny was standing in the Hogwarts library between the rows with books on Goblin Wars and breeding flobberworms, her gaze drifting to a table hidden in a corner, where a dark haired boy in Slytherin robes was engrossed in a tome the size of a baby Hippogriff. Her first weeks at Hogwarts had drifted by and the ancient castle was all it was promised to be by her older brothers and more. The ghosts, the talking and moving paintings, the hidden corridors and vast and beautiful grounds had enchanted her thoroughly. Like every member of her family before her, she had been sorted into Gryffindor and the common room had quickly become her home away from the Burrow. Classes were captivating and she was happy to be able to say that she already made her first friends, most noteworthy Colin Creevey, a fellow Gryffindor who was a passionate photographer, reminding her of her father and his obsession with muggle technology, and Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw, who was regarded as a head case by many but Ginny found her eccentricity charming and entertaining. Despite her first successful steps into independence she wasn't able to forget her conversation with Tom Riddle on the Hogwarts Express. First she thought he was like every other Slytherin git: rich, spoiled, pampered and a Dark Wizard in the making. But his thoughtful and passionate defence about Slytherin House and dark magic had her thinking. Riling up Ron in the process was just a bonus. She had admitted to herself that she only ever considered the matter from one point of view and was woefully ignorant and biased because of her family background and her brother's experiences at school. While she wasn't an avid reader like Ron's friend Hermione she liked to think that she was adequately equipped to navigate her way through the library in order to enhance her knowledge on the topic and could consequently form a more informed opinion. So she read books about magical theory, traditions and history, coming to the conclusion that there were a great many spells, potions and rituals that were simply vile and disgusting but that Riddle was right and the Dark Arts were more than public opinion made them out to be. And she was intrigued. If her mother would know her thoughts, her butt would never be the same and she would be grounded for life, still her natural curiosity drove her on to learn more. So she was standing in the library watching Riddle -which admittedly was a bit creepy- and internally debated on how to approach him. She wasn't exactly shy but since coming to Hogwarts she heard so much about him, aside from Ron's whining about how he was a git, that she felt a tiny bit intimidated. Charming orphan. Genius. Friendly and well liked by everyone. Girls getting all giggly and blushing around him. Magical whiz and so on and so forth. Conversation was easier when she still thought him to be just another Slytherin._

 _"Are you just going to stand there and stare or will you take a seat?"_

 _'Looks like I won't have to come up with a way on how to approach him after all. He just thinks I'm a creepy stalker now.'_

 _"Sure...um...hi.", as soon as the words left her mouth Ginny hoped the ground would open and swallow her whole. Judging by his raised eyebrow -were raised eyebrows a Slytherin thing? Because she could swear that every single one of them had the condescending raising of one brow down to a minor art form.- Riddle wasn't particularly impressed with her eloquence either. Well in for a knut, in for a sickle.  
_

 _"I hope I'm not disturbing you but I gave what you said on the Hogwarts Express some thought and realised that there is definitely more to what you said but I still have some questions for clarification and...you probably don't even remember me...we met on the train I am..."_

 _"Ginevra Weasley. I remember."_

 _Dear Merlin, if she was waiting for the most embarrassing moment of her life she needn't wait any longer because here it was.  
_

 _"I hope your first weeks of school have been pleasant for you and my felicitations on being sorted into Gryffindor. How may I be of help to you?"_

 _'Wait...what?', his disarming politeness caught her off guard. 'Why is he acting like he competes with Gilderoy Lockhart for Witch Weekly's most charming bachelor award?'_

 _Riddles lips curled into a smirk as if he could read her thoughts and with feigned innocence he asked: "Is something the matter? You seem awfully quiet all of a sudden."_

 _Ginny scoffed. 'What a bastard.', she thought with more fondness than malice and decided to get her act together. "Please let me start again: Hi, I am Ginny Weasley we met on the Hogwarts Express. I hope the start of term had been agreeable with you. Sorry to interrupt but regarding our conversation on the train I would like to ask you some questions."_

 _His smirk seemed to soften into a real smile. "Ask away then."_

 _From this day on one could find Ginny Weasley and Tom Riddle at least once a week in the library together, doing homework, discussing books they read and sometimes just talking about nonsensical things like how people who ate ear wax flavoured Bertie Bott's Beans even knew how ear wax tasted._

 _Of course Ron threw a fit on how his little sister could hang out with a Slytherin git. Ironically, Draco Malfoy threw the same fit with Tom about how he could debase himself and be seen in the company of a Weasley. Colin was awed that Ginny had struck some kind of friendship with the resident genius and had to be gently persuaded that Tom really didn't want to have photos of himself that he could sign and hand out to the public. Luna just cryptically commented on how Ginny would be good for the older boy because his head housed the biggest Wrackspurt infestation the Ravenclaw had ever seen._

 _Through all of this Riddle became Tom but Ginny remained Ginevra. When asked why he insisted on calling her Ginevra, he simply said: "It suits you better."_

* * *

The Leaky Cauldron was packed with people. In one corner booth, Tom had just finished his explanation about what exactly he had been doing all day. While Ginny was impressed with his ingenuity she still didn't consider potions a reviling hobby. In front of them lay their empty dinner plates and full bottles of butterbeer. The flickering light of the floating candles threw shadows over Tom's face and she was once again struck with how handsome her friend was, -not that she hadn't realised this before but then it was more like admiring a painting or sculpture. She was impressed and could say that he was aesthetically pleasing but recently there was more when she looked too long and closely at her friend. His face did funny things to her heart rate and breathing.- high cheekbones, strong jaw, straight patrician nose and dark blue eyes.

"Admiring me Ginevra?", his playful question popped her little mental bubble. She could practically feel her blush crawl over her face -damn her light complexion and since when did she blush this much?- and scrambled to find a witty comeback.

"Even if I was the effect is ruined because I know who you are."

An amused chuckle rumbled out of Tom's chest. "And who am I?"

She smirked. "An ass of course."

"Yes,", he agreed solemnly, "but I am your ass."

Damn, were they flirting? Ginny was pretty sure that counted as flirting. And now they had a moment, one of those her mother gushed about when reading trashy paperback romance novels. However, as cliché as it may be she couldn't tear her eyes away from his and he didn't appear to be particularly inclined to look away either. Before her brain said goodbye and went on an extended holiday and she did something stupid like reaching across the table and curl her fingers into his infuriatingly perfect hair and...they were awoken from their trance via pink haired metamorphmagus crashing into the table.

Ginny's first instinct was to joke about Tonks' clumsiness and shuffle the moment into the back of her mind so that she did not have to think about the possible meanings of suddenly even having moments with her best friend but any comment she could make died in her throat when she took in Tonks' face. A serious look graced the metamorphmagus' features, hair dishevelled and breath slightly accelerated.

"Tom, Ginny, we need you at the Ministry immediately. The Lestranges broke out of the holding cells."

* * *

The Auror Department was in chaos when the three arrived at the Ministry. People were shouting and running around, paper plane memos flying so fast that it was miraculous that nobody had lost an eye yet. Moody and the rest of the team were already waiting down at the now empty holding cells.

"Alright,", Moody growled, "this is what we know so far: the Lestranges were in three different cells and none of the guards noticed any suspicious behaviour. At four o'clock the guard shift changed and they went up into the department to fill the new shift in. When the new shift arrived the cells were empty and this...", he made a sweeping gesture with his gnarled hands, "was on the walls of their cells."

A skull with a snake coming out of its mouth was crudely drawn in sickly green paint onto each wall of the three cells. Beneath the words 'United under the Dark Mark' were written in the same shade of green.

"How long were the Lestranges unsupervised?", Tom inquired.

"Ten minutes maximum.", Moody answered.

"What about their wands?"

"Missing from the evidence room.", Moody bit out, as if the mere admission physically pained him.

Tom sighed. "Unfortunately, the facts lead to only one plausible conclusion: they had help from within the Ministry."

Ronald made a noise as if he wanted to protest but Tonks held up her hand and asked quietly: "How do you come to this conclusion?"

"First of all: the time frame. They had ten minutes to open the cells, paint their message and get up into the department without being seen. Since the wands are missing one had to assume that they then went and broke into the evidence room, without wands because theirs were still within, got their wands and left the Ministry. Again without being seen and when the guards had already raised the alarm. Highly improbable. Secondly: how did they leave the building? They couldn't use a portkey or have apparated because of the Ministry wards. This leaves the floo network or the manual entrances. Keeping probability in mind, a manual entrance seems more likely since the floo network is blocked immediately when the alarm is raised. Meaning they walked once across the whole building and out and no one noticed, ergo: they had help."

The distaste that the thought of any of their colleagues helping the Lestranges escape evoked was palpable. Tom wondered why, because in his opinion people throughout history have proven again and again that treachery was a defining trait of humanity.

"So,", Potter began, "you think that someone broke into the evidence room, stole the wands, waited until the guards changed shifts, went down and freed the Lestranges, left the message and somehow made off with them unnoticed?"

Tom inclined his head in agreement. "I would guess Polyjuice Potion or an Invisibility Cloak was involved to escape unseen."

"Well, that sucks.", was Draco's helpful contribution.

The following hours went by in a flurry of activity. Aurors were distributed to guard Lestrange Manor and any other property belonging to them, in case the fugitives would show themselves. The Goblins of Gringotts were informed that anyone who wanted to access the family's vaults had to be reported to the Aurors immediately. Reviewing the activity of the floo network only lent credence to Tom's theory that they most likely escaped via manual entrance. The Aurors on guard duty were questioned but seemed genuinely innocent of any crime or even breach of security protocol and thus were of the hook with a few heartfelt words of "Constant vigilance!" from Moody. The breaking of the wards around the cells and evidence room was done very efficiently, cementing the suspicion that the culprit had experience with standard Ministry wards.

In the early hours of the morning the SHD had exhausted every available avenue of tracking the Lestranges down quickly and they all appeared to begrudgingly resign themselves to the fact that they had to wait until the Lestranges were spotted again before they could make a move.

"Dammit!", Potter exclaimed and pounded his fist hard onto his desk.

"Mad-Eye you are very quiet.", Tonks observed. "What's on your mind?"

The old Auror grunted non-committally and let his eye spin wildly in his socket. "Are you aware what this means, Nymphadora?"

Reflecting the seriousness of the situation, the metamorphmagus refrained from protesting the use of her given name and simply answered: "Of course, I mean they are very dangerous and highly unstable but we can catch them again..."

"No,", Tom interrupted, "the problem is much more severe than three escaped murderers."

Moody simply nodded and Ginevra softly inquired: "How so?"

Tom rubbed the bridge of his nose, -he was without sleep for more than 48 hours now and it started to catch up with him.- crossed his long legs and started to explain: "They had help from within the Ministry, they left a message and a sign, a symbol if you will. This means they have a message they want to broadcast and their crimes prior to their detainment are a clue as to what this message might be. They attacked, tortured and killed muggle-borns, meaning they take blood supremacy to the extreme. Blood supremacy, anti-muggle sentiment, this is their message. And it has become political: a symbol, inside men in the Ministry. Most likely they are part of an extremist political movement that we haven't heard about before and apart from the Lestranges and the unknown inside man we have no idea as to their identities, the size of their group, their plans, financial backing etcetera."

"Exactly,", Moody growled, "I know you call me paranoid but this could get very ugly, very quickly. There hasn't been a militant blood supremacy movement in all of Europe since Grindelwald and he was defeated before I was born. People who share this ideology might be very receptive to such propaganda."

"But surely not many would be ready to kill for this or even break the law in a smaller capacity!", Draco exclaimed, "I know my family and many of our acquaintances are more...conservative when it comes to questions of blood purity but none of them would be willing to settle this question outside of the Wizengamot."

"Let's hope so otherwise we'll have a civil war on our hands.", was Moody's depressing reply.

Suddenly the door to their office was thrown open and a young Auror sprinted inside, panting and wheezing: "This symbol, the Dark Mark, it was spotted. Somebody cast it in the sky, it can be seen for miles!"

"Where?", Moody barked.

"Wiltshire. Above the Malfoy's home."

All colour left Draco's already pale face.

* * *

 **Thank you for taking your time to read this. This chapter is a bit shorter than the last and contains much background information but I promise the plot really gets going from here on out. Reviews would make me very happy and help me to improve my writing *shameless hint*.  
**

 **Chapter 2: Mystery at Malfoy Manor, will be up on Sunday January, 29.**


	3. Mystery at Malfoy Manor

**I'm sorry but I really couldn't get this out sooner. I want to thank everyone who reads this story and takes their time to leave a comment it really helps me write. I want to shout out special thanks to the reviewer Gin since I can't answer them via the review reply option: Thank you. Your reviews keep me motivated!  
**

 **Chapter 2: Mystery at Malfoy Manor**

* * *

Several loud cracks of apparition cut through the silence of nightly Wiltshire. The first thing that drew everybody's eyes, was the picture of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth, hovering high in the sky and casting a sickly green light onto the stately manor below. For one or two heartbeats everything seemed to be frozen, then the stillness was broken by Draco's loud gasp of "Mother! Father!". Quick as a Firebolt the Malfoy heir dashed to the front gates.

"Malfoy, wait!", Ginny intervened. "We don't know what happened. The Lestranges could still be here."

Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say since Malfoy only broke into a run. Cursing lowly under her breath Ginny and the rest of the team followed only to come to an undignified stop right in front of the gates. Draco's body sagged into itself as if a staggering weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

"Thank, Merlin", he breathed out, "the family wards are still intact."

"Only the Head of the family can lift the wards.", Tom pointed out, "And since they haven't been broken, Lucius is still keeping them up."

Thinking of her mother, her delicious cooking that always tasted like home, her warm hugs and her knitted sweaters; thinking of her father, his childish enthusiasm when tinkering with muggle items in the shed, his calm gaze and soothing voice and thinking about what she would be feeling if the gruesome sight in the sky would be hovering over the Burrow, Ginny softly placed one hand on Draco's shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"They are probably inside. Why don't you send your Patronus, Draco, so that your father lets us in?"

Nodding, Draco pulled out his wand and cast his Patronus. She watched as the silver ferret -and hadn't they all had a good laugh when Draco's Patronus turned out to be a ferret- sprinted up the lawn and disappeared through the oak doors. Several minutes passed in an uncomfortable silence until the doors opened and the unmistakable form of Lucius Malfoy, complete with his distinctive cane, walked towards them.

"Father!", Draco exclaimed, "Are you and mother alright?"

"Draco.", Lucius nodded to each of them in greeting, "Your mother and I are well."

"Malfoy.", Moody grunted, "We would be much obliged if you'd let us in."

"Of course.", Lucius drew his wand from his cane and tapped thrice on the gates. They followed him up into the entrance hall while the gates closed behind them with a loud clank.

In the entrance hall, which screamed "we have money and you don't", a beautiful blonde witch crossed the distance between them as if she had apparated and threw herself into Draco's arms. Ginny could not remember ever seeing the austere and seemingly cold woman act with so much warmth and affection.

"Draco, my little Dragon, are you alright? Your father and I were so worried."

Masking her amusement by hiding a laugh as a cough, Ginny watched Draco turn Gryffindor red.

"I'm fine mother. I was more concerned about you. What happened? Were the Lestranges here?"

"Let's take this conversation to the drawing room.", proposed Lucius, "Can I offer you any refreshments?"

"Bloody hell, no!", it seemed Moody has lost his patience, "Just answer the damn question: What happened? Did you have any contact with the Lestranges?"

"Of course not! Are you implying we would shelter known criminals, Moody?", Lucius asked indignantly.

Ginny could understand Moody's questions but she also understood the anger on Draco's and Lucius' faces.

"Gentlemen,", Narcissa interjected, "let us all keep calm. Lucius and I will be happy to answer any questions you have for us."

"Very well, darling.", the elder Malfoy agreed and Moody gave his consent with a silent nod.

Tonks cleared her throat: "Aunt Cissa, please tell us what you did this evening, how and when you saw the mark in the sky and if you noticed anything suspicious at all."

The Lady of the house smoothed some non-existent wrinkles out of her gown and petted her husband's arm, who in the meantime had taken a seat next to her.

"Lucius and I were eating dinner and retired around eleven o'clock. Around three o'clock Lucius woke me and told me about the mark in the sky.", with a sideways glance to her husband Narcissa prompted her husband to add his part of the story.

"I woke up around two o'clock because I couldn't sleep and decided to get a book from our library. From the window I noticed the skull and the snake. Since Draco had told us about the Lestrange's escape, I naturally had kept the wards up and immediately notified the Ministry."

Harry looked pensive, while her brother looked like he did not believe a single word of what they had been told. Before he could voice his scepticism, however, Tom declared quietly: "They tell the truth."

She knew of course about Tom's ability at Legilimency and even though she could in all honesty say that she neither liked nor trusted Lucius Malfoy, -his anti-muggle politics had been a constant topic at home, especially for her father, and his snobbish behaviour did not help to endear himself to her- she trusted Tom's abilities at digging out the truth. Furthermore, she could find no fault with Narcissa Malfoy and after all the Malfoys were true Slytherins: they would not get caught red handed helping fugitives and announce it for all to see by casting it in the sky, if they did not want to risk their standing in society, and more importantly: their family. For no matter how cold and distant they behaved in public, Ginny knew Draco long enough -even could admit that she had grown slightly fond of him, like one was fond of an annoying cousin. But Merlin forbid, she would never tell him that.- to know that the Malfoy family was as loving and caring as her own family, only in different ways.

"How do you know, Riddle? You are friends with them. Who can tell if you aren't covering for them?"

This statement was not only stupid but also below the belt. Sometimes she doubted that her brother ever grew up and let go of childish school grudges. They were a team after all and had proven before that they had each other's backs. Somehow, beyond Ginny's comprehension, since they caught the Lestranges two days ago, Ron's antipathy against Draco and in particular Tom seemed to have reached new heights.

Before wands could be drawn Harry, surprisingly, intervened: "Mate, stop it and think about it. Why should the Malfoys aid the Lestranges and then call the Aurors? It's highly illogical."

By the look of approval on Tom's face he completely agreed with Harry. Which surprised Ginny, since Tom normally wouldn't be found dead agreeing with Harry. While Tom didn't think very highly about Harry's intelligence, Ginny always knew that while her brother Ron was a good strategist -she had never managed to bet him at chess- Harry had instinctual deduction abilities. After taking deep breaths and calming the famous Weasley temper Ron turned to the Malfoys, bowed formally at the waist and said: "Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, please excuse me, I didn't intend to suggest that you are in league with the Lestranges." Nobody mentioned that he didn't apologise to Tom, though.

With a stiff nod Lucius accepted Ron's apology: "Please think nothing of it Mr. Weasley. I am sure the Lestrange's escape has all the Aurors in an uproar."

"Lucius, Narcissa,", Tom silkily interrupted, "would you be so kind as to consent to a search of the Manor and the grounds? It is highly unlikely but maybe somehow the Lestranges managed to breach your wards. All suspicion will be cast aside if we search and wind up with no evidence."

Narcissa smiled brilliantly: "Of course Tom. Naturally we are happy to oblige and aid the Ministry in any way we can."

"That's that then.", Tonks declared and happily clapped her hands while simultaneously changing her hair from pink to violet and back to pink again.

After fussing some more over Draco, Tom and, surprisingly, Ginny herself and offering refreshments several times, Narcissa allowed them to start their search. After a quick deliberation it was decided that Ginny and Tom would search the grounds, while Harry, Ron, Moody and Tonks would search the Manor.

Outside the stars twinkled and the beautiful rose bushes complimented the landscape. Only the grotesque sight of the Dark Mark in the sky disturbed the picturesque picture.

"Did you use Legilimency on Lucius?", Ginny asked Tom.

In answer he nodded tiredly: "Yes, but I only checked his surface thoughts without penetrating his Occlumency shields. I glimpsed that he wasn't lying though."

Bathed in the moonlight, Ginny noticed, how pale and tired -though still devilishly handsome her mind supplied- Tom looked. Dark circles started forming under his eyes. Of course the idiot hadn't slept in over 48 hours but rather opted to work on his potion theory. She vowed to herself that she would personally kick his ass into bed after they were done for the night.

"It would be illogical for the Malfoys to aid the Lestranges, like Harry said.", Ginny said, "Even if Bellatrix is Narcissa's sister."

Tom did not grace her with an answer but the small crease between his eyebrows showed how irritated he was that Harry was right about anything. That caused Ginny to grin: no matter how old they grew Tom's rivalry with Ron, Harry and by extension Hermione never changed.

For several hours they searched the grounds, used every detection spell known to them and left no stone unturned. However, the only thing they found were the ostentatious albino peacocks the Malfoys were so fond of keeping. When they reconvened in the drawing room the sun had already crept over the horizon. Predictably they hadn't found anything. No bodies, no Lestranges or any sign that anything suspicious happened at Malfoy Manor, apart from the skull and snake over the estate.

Disgruntled Moody told them all to go home and to employ "Constant vigilance!". Tom and Draco elected to stay for breakfast with the Malfoys. Ginny found herself perplexed when Narcissa extended an invitation for breakfast to her also.

"Miss Weasley, wouldn't you like to stay for breakfast?"

Silence. For several moments Ginny scrambled her brain for an answer. The Malfoy-Weasley feud was well known. Although she had never been as competitive with Draco at school like her brothers, she wouldn't exactly describe herself on friendly terms with the aristocratic family. She was saved from finding a polite rejection of the invitation by Ron: "Ginny can't. We are already invited for breakfast at home. Hermione and Harry's parents are coming."

"Of course,", Narcissa answered primly, "some other time then Miss Weasley." again she gave a blindingly bright smile. Ginny had absolutely no idea why the matriarch was about but she sincerely hoped that Narcissa hadn't set her sights on setting her up with Draco. The thought alone was... disturbing.

Before the SHD left, Tom and Moody managed to eradicate the Dark Mark from the sky. Already her friend was murmuring about possible incantations for the sign. Worry churned in her stomach once more.

"Tom!", she addressed him sternly, taking a page out of her mother's book, "after you had breakfast with the Malfoys, please go to sleep. You have been up for over 48 hours now."

Before he could give her a scathing reply about treating him as a child, Mrs. Malfoy added: "Yes, Tom. Miss Weasley is absolutely right. After you and Draco have eaten you two are off to bed."

Ron and Harry snickered behind their hands, finding great amusement in seeing their school rival treated like a child. Although a muscle in Tom's jaw clenched spastically, he replied charmingly: "Of course Narcissa. I wouldn't dream of disobeying you."

"You'd better not, Tom, you'd better not.", Narcissa's smile had turned positively savage. 'He'd really better not.', Ginny thought to herself. She knew the glint in Narcissa's eyes, it was the same glint her mother had when her twin brothers were up to some mischief again. It spelled real trouble.

After bidding the Malfoys and Tom adieu the other four set out for the gates.

"It's mysterious, is it not?", Harry asked the others.

"What is?", Tonks inquired.

"Well: everything. Why was the Dark Mark cast over Malfoy Manor? There are no bodies. As far as we can tell no crime was committed and the Malfoys are save and definitely not hiding the Lestranges. What's the purpose of casting the Mark?"

To this, none of them had an answer.

Before the feeling of being squeezed through a small rubber tube took over, Ginny mused to herself: 'A mystery indeed.'

* * *

 _Hogwarts, New Years Eve 1995  
_

 _Ginny was angry. Scratch that. Ginny was pissed. Like a whirlwind she marched through the corridors of Hogwarts, her long red hair trailing behind her like a trail of fire.  
_

 _'Where is he?'_

 _She couldn't find Tom, hadn't seen him at breakfast or lunch, couldn't find him in the library or his usual hideouts. She even asked Draco if he was in the Slytherin common room, which he wasn't. It was his birthday today and Ginny had been looking forward to it. Had spent much time deliberating what she would gift him and had saved her sparse pocket money since the summer holidays. She had wanted to surprise him with her present, give him something of personal value. All the other Slytherin had properly given him something worth more than her house: crystal vials, jewellery, robes... but she was confident that her present would give him true pleasure. And she wanted to see it on his face when he unwrapped her gift, damn it. The idiot had to agreed to spend the day with her and now he was nowhere to be found._

 _The portrait of the Fat Lady came into view. After snapping the password to her and listening with half an ear about her grumbling about impolite students she spotted the person who might help her. Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting in the fluffy, red armchairs in front of the fire. Hermione seemed to be knitting more clothes for the House Elves, -a fruitless attempt to free the elves but Ron had tried to talk some sense into her and that got him a tongue lashing worthy of Mrs. Weasley- while Ron was trashing Harry at chess._

 _"Ginny, come sit with us." Harry had spotted her quickly in the empty common room, most students spend the holidays at home._

 _With a huff Ginny sank down onto a free armchair. "Harry, may I ask you a favour?"_

 _"Of course." Harry answered with an easy smile "How can I help you?"_

 _"I'd like to take a look at the map."_

 _"Uh... what map?"_

 _Ginny rolled her eyes. The denial might have been convincing if Ron hadn't stopped what he had been doing and stared at Ginny, Hermione had stopped knitting and looked at the scene with eyes narrowed in suspicion._

 _"The Marauder's Map of course."_

 _Before Harry could from a stringent sentence, her brother interrupted: "How do you know about the Map?"_

 _"Seriously, you look at me like I dug out your deepest, darkest secret. Fred and George told me how they stole it from Filch and gave it back to Harry when they found out your father is Prongs."_

 _All three deflated and smiled sheepishly. Ginny's already bad mood soured further. She got that the three were a tight knit group and she didn't expect that they share every little thing with her, she also had her own friends of course but to be treated by them like a little, naive girl who could not be trusted was grating. Fred and George trusted her, let her help even with pranks and ideas for their planned shop. She was a Chaser in the Gryffindor team and had grown up with six brothers. Hell, maybe she was overly dramatic but with Tom's negligence of their friendship and the three's secretive behaviour she did feel a bit desolate. Harry seemed to pick up on her thoughts and nervously carded a hand through his already messy hair: "Ginny I'm sorry. We did not want you to feel left out but the map is really handy and we can not risk word getting out..."_

 _"So you think I would go around and blab about it?"_

 _"Er...no you see but..."_

 _She sighed tiredly. It was not really their fault that she was in a bad mood, consequently she shouldn't take her anger out on them. Even if there was a grain of truth in the matter. "It's alright. I am not really angry... so will you let me take a look or not?"_

 _While Harry jogged up the stairs to the boy's dorms to get the map, Hermione pinned her with a calculating look. "I think you have a point, Ginny. I understand if you are hurt. Sometimes we just get so caught up in ourselves that we neglect to include you. Please do not keep this to yourself but talk with us."_

 _"'mione is right, Gin. You are my little sister after all."_

 _Bless them. A warm feeling spread through Ginny's chest._

 _"Here we are." Harry spread the parchment over his armchair. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."_

 _After checking the map for nearly ten minutes Ginny came to the conclusion that Tom was nowhere to be found. If the idiot had left the castle..._

 _"Who are you looking for anyway?" Ron asked distractedly, he and Harry had taken up their game of chess again._

 _"Tom." Ginny said, while handing the map back to Harry._

 _Predictably, Ron and Harry grimaced._

 _"I still don't understand why you hang out with the git." her brother complained._

 _"Because we are friends, Ron, duh. And we already had this discussion. Several times in fact. He is my friend, I am old enough to decide that for myself. And I really don't care for your approval or that he is a Slytherin."_

 _"Why are you even looking for him?", Harry asked, "Any specific reason?"_

 _"It's his birthday and I want to give him his gift. But it seems he snug out of the castle."_

 _"What!", Hermione exclaimed, "He is a Prefect."_

 _"Yes, better tell McGonagall.", Ron threw in vindictively._

 _"Seriously, Ronald. How often do you and Harry sneak out and I don't tell McGonagall?"_

 _"But that's different 'mione. We are your friends and he..."_

 _Before Ron and Hermione could start another one of their infamous arguments they were stopped by Harry quietly asking: "Do you reckon he is up to something?"_

 _Ginny narrowed her eyes: "And what exactly, Harry Potter, should he be up to?"_

 _Harry help up both hands in a sign of surrender but bravely soldiered on: "Well, he is not the type to sneak out for treats from Honeydukes, is he?"_

 _"What type is he then?", Ginny snapped._

 _"Maybe...", Ron started slowly, "he is going to Knockturn Alley, buying books on the Dark Arts...", his eyes widened as if he had a sudden epiphany, "maybe that's why he is better than you Hermione in every class? He cheats!"_

 _Frankly, this was getting ridiculous. "No Ron, he is better because he simply is. How would you cheat anyway? No offence Hermione."_

 _Although Hermione looked slightly miffed that Tom Riddle was better than her in every class, she also had to admit that he simply was a genius and there was no conceivable way he could have cheated his marks out of every teacher. Ginny wisely did not comment on the truth Ron had uttered: Tom had a tendency for procuring questionable books from Knockturn Alley... and showing said books to her afterwards. Not that she would ever tell her brother that.  
_

 _"Ginny?", Harry's quiet voice woke her from her thought induced stupor, "You are spending quiet some time with him...you haven't noticed anything suspicious...I mean if you would like to tell us..."  
_

 _"Really, Harry? Really?", in anger she had sprung up from her armchair, fisting her hands so tight her nails left small crescent marks on her palm, "What is it you think I noticed? Him killing Filch's cat? Virgin sacrifices on full moons? What?"_

 _"Er...uh..."_

 _But she was on a roll: "He. Is. My. Friend. I don't know what your problem is? Yes I know you can't stand each other but seriously: Grow up! You..."_

 _"We worry!", bellowed Ron. Then, quieter: "We worry, ok? We care about you and we worry. The guy's too perfect...there is something about him... even Dumbledore said so."_

 _Ginny couldn't help it, her jaw unhinged and she could catch flies with her mouth: "Dumbledore said what...when...?"_

 _"Harry and Ron have eavesdropped on a conversation Dumbledore had with Professor Slughorn a week or so ago.", Hermione huffed, "And they blew what they heard completely out of proportion."_

 _With a silent look Ginny demanded an explanation from her bushy haired friend, who in turn glared at the two cowed boys._

 _"Well,", Harry cleared his throat, "Slughorn was bragging about Riddle again, how he is the second coming of Merlin when Dumbledore said something like "too much praise is not good for anyone" and "we all have darkness in us"."_

 _"And...?", this couldn't be it, could it?_

 _"Well that was all we heard,", Ron answered, "but we have a really bad feeling about this and if Dumbledore said... Hey Ginny where are you going?"_

 _Shaking her head, Ginny quickly marched to the portrait hole. Seriously, they heard Dumbledore say something mundane in an effort to curb Slughorn's enthusiasm and came to the conclusion that Tom was what? A second Grindelwald? She better take a long walk to calm down._

 _Lost in her angry thoughts she didn't notice where she was going, until she ran into something. Something tall and hard. Something breathing and wearing Slytherin robes._

 _"Ginevra."_

 _Blinking she looked around. She was on the first floor and had literally just run into Tom, who according to the map wasn't even in the castle. Thus, she found it only natural when she blurted out: "Where have you been?"_

 _"And hello to you too."_

 _"Well, are you going to answer me or not?"_

 _A raised eyebrow was her answer._

 _"I have been looking for you all day, I have your birthday gift... well: Happy Birthday."_

 _"Thank you, Ginevra.", Tom mockingly bowed his head. He had an odd glint in his eyes and seemed...elated? He was never elated on New Year's Eve. He hated his birthday. Something was going on._

 _"So, what have you been up to? You promised that we would meet up." she didn't even care that she sounded clingy. She was angry and wanted answers._

 _"Just taking a stroll around the castle. We must have missed each other."_

 _He was lying to her. He had vanished from the map. Why was he lying?_

 _"You are lying."_

 _Anger flittered over his features. He did not like to be questioned but she wasn't one of his sycophant Slytherins._

 _"I know you left the castle. Where have you been?"_

 _"I wasn't aware that I have to report my whereabouts to you.", his voice had gone cold._

 _"You don't have to but we are friends, or so I thought. So you could at least tell me. We were supposed to meet up, you could at least apologise and explain."_

 _"I apologise. I lost track of time when, as I said before, I took a stroll around the castle."_

 _Ginny's temper exploded: "Bullshit! We both know you did not take a stroll. Very well, since you apparently don't trust me or even care when we are supposed to meet...", she took a deep breath, "I want to be your friend but this is not a one way street Tom. You can at least trust me. Here is your present."_

 _Without further ado she threw a rectangular package, wrapped in green paper at him, turned on her heels and marched back to Gryffindor Tower._

 _His gift had been a biography of Salazar Slytherin, since he had once off handedly commented that Slytherin was his favourite historical figure._

* * *

 **Again my apologies for this belated and rather short chapter. Unfortunately student life has caught up with me and this week promises to be somewhat stressful. So the next chapter will be up in TWO weeks time.**

 **Chapter 3: The Difference Between Blood and Family, will be up on the 12th of February (Sunday).**


	4. The Difference Between Blood and Family

**Hello and welcome to another chapter. Thank you Gin for your encouraging words. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and leave me with your thoughts.**

 **Chapter 3: The Difference Between Blood and Family**

* * *

 _Hogwarts, January 1st 1996_

 _When Tom left his dorm early in the morning he had to make a conscious effort to avoid stepping into bodies lying on the floor in their own vomit. The Slytherins had celebrated the beginning of a New Year until the early hours of the morning. In fact a few were only now crawling back to their dorms, some had not made it this far and were passed out on the stairs or couches in the common room. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Tom set out for the entrance of the common room. Today would be a day all for himself since none of his Slytherin followers would be of much use after the previous night. No matter what the other Houses may proclaim no one knew how to throw a party better than the Slytherins with freely flowing Fire Whiskey and other questionable beverages. Their Head of House was in on the fun, developing selective perception on every occasion which warranted a party. Furthermore, Slughorn would show himself around lunch time and leave a freshly brewed batch of Hangover Potion behind.  
_

 _Although Tom did not participate in the festivities the headache he had rivalled the ones his Housemates clearly nursed. Even with strong silencing charms around his bed he hadn't been able to sleep, it was ridiculous really... thinking about Ginevra's childish tantrum. Of course they were friends. What in Merlin's name made her think otherwise? Didn't she realise that he spent most of his time with her? That he indulged her in activities that were completely pointless to him just because she considered them 'fun'? Wasn't it obvious that he treated her more like an equal, that she could talk back to him, try to play pranks, knew more about him than his closest associates in Slytherin?_

 _She talked about trust. But didn't her insistence to know where he spent the day imply a lack of trust on her part? And what he had been doing was not on the same scale like telling her what his favourite colour was. This was huge, monumental. He had finally found it. Achieved something generations of scholars had strived to achieve only to fail. Because they were not like him, they lacked the most important requirement: They were not the heirs of Slytherin but he, lowly orphan boy Tom Riddle was the last descendent of the great Salazar Slytherin. He alone commanded the tongue of serpents and thus, hypothetically the monster slumbering under the school for over a millennium. He was somebody. The heir of Slytherin._

 _Naturally he wanted to shout it from the Astronomy Tower. But it would not be prudent. Like any true Slytherin -and that he was one by blood still made him giddy- he preferred to hold his cards close to his chest. The ability to speak Parseltongue was regarded with wariness at best, with hostility and loathing at worst. While his status among his Slytherin peers would be elevated from leader to God, the rest of the school would cause problems. In short the benefits would not be worth the drawbacks. But this tight, electrifying feeling in his chest demanded recognition for his bloodline and his achievement. He wanted to tell someone. And if he had to absolutely pick someone, wouldn't Ginevra be his first choice? She was open minded regarding his... darker aspects. She was his friend. Unlike his Slytherin associates she wanted to be his friend, not because of an elevation in status, not because of the promise of success and glory in his shadow but only for himself. Even Draco only noticed him because of his power. Ginevra was his friend because she valued his mind and character. A confusing idea since nobody could possibly only want to be his friend just because they liked him. But she was. His friend. His friend who gave him a birthday gift that must have cost quite a lot and she wasn't very rich herself. A gift he treasured. A biography of Salazar Slytherin. Clearly she put a lot of thought into this present. And this thought did not sit well with him. It tasted bitter on his tongue, suspiciously like guilt.  
_

 _The Great Hall was only mildly populated this morning. Most students opted to stay in bed, making up for their lack of sleep or nursing their hangovers. Unconsciously, his eyes swept over the hall looking for red. His gaze focused on the Ravenclaw table where the object of his musings sat with her boyfriend. Preparing a cup of black coffee for himself, Tom silently observed Ginevra over the brink of his steaming mug. Apparently the conversation between the redhead and her boyfriend was on the brink of escalation. While Ginevra did not show any sign of fatigue or drinking, her companion was in grave danger of drowning in his bowl of cereals. Her urgent whispers and sharp hand gestures were answered with grunts and nods. Clearly fed up with the boy's unresponsiveness Ginevra got up and stalked out of the hall. Hastily scrambling to his feet the Ravenclaw followed. His decision made -the more the merrier- Tom drowned the rest of his coffee and set out in pursuit of the couple. On the first floor he caught up with them.  
_

 _"Clearly I was wrong... I mean is it too much to ask to just listen to me? You are my boyfriend. I could use your advice..."_

 _"Advice.", Corner scoffed, "It's not about listening or giving advice. The problem is it's always Tom this, Riddle that..."_

 _"Wait. Are you jealous?"_

 _"Oh, I don't know. Do I have a reason?"_

 _"Don't be ridiculous."_

 _"Ridiculous? I am not the one talking every hour of the day about Riddle. It's like you are obsessed or something."_

 _"Listen, you prat. Tom is my friend and of course I talk about my friends because they are important to me."_

 _"You don't talk this much about your other friends. And sure you are great friends or did I misunderstand your rant from before. Sounded like he is a right prat."_

 _Having heard enough, Tom decided to participate in this lovely conversation._

 _"Good morning Ginevra... Corner.", his voice was smooth and silky and yet didn't fail to convey to Corner how much he thought about him. Which amounted to roughly nothing.  
_

 _"Riddle.", Corner gritted out but was ignored by both Tom and Ginevra who had engaged in a staring match._

 _"You can leave now, Corner.", Tom told him coldly. This conversation was between him and Ginevra only. Corner's indignant spluttering was interrupted by Ginevra: "I'll see you later Michael."_

 _He huffed, his face turning scarlet: "Fine!", and stalked of. The silence continued while the two continued to stare at each other until even Tom was forced to admit that it was becoming rather childish. He awkwardly cleared his throat. This was more difficult than he first assumed.  
_

 _"I... want to apologise... for my aloof and cold behaviour to you yesterday. And I want to thank you for my present... I appreciate it."_

 _During his admittedly stilted monologue Ginevra's expression did not change one iota. Slowly a wide smile crept over her face, making her eyes twinkle._

 _"Did it hurt? To apologise I mean?"_

 _He snorted. Elegantly of course. "I am in agony."_

 _Ginevra giggled slightly and Tom felt the corners of his lips tilt up._

 _"Am I forgiven?"  
_

 _She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yes, come here prat so I can give you a proper birthday hug." Slim arms slipped around his waist and a head full of long red hair came to rest on his chest. For a moment Tom stiffened. Friendly hugs and touches were not something he participated in often. Being who he was he had already explored the different aspects of sexuality, mainly to be able to use them into manipulating others to his will. But this was different, simply hugging or touching in order to give comfort... Slowly his arms crept around Ginevra's hips and his chin rested in her fiery hair. For several deep breaths both remained silent, sharing their heartbeats and breathing in union. Tom had to admit that this felt good... precious. The moment was broken when Ginevra shifted her head so that her chin was resting on Tom's chest and she could look up into his face: "You don't need to, but will you tell me what you were up to yesterday?"_

 _Yes, she had forgiven him and probably wouldn't nag if he decided to not tell her now but he had already established that he wanted to tell someone and Ginevra was this person. Besides, not that he would ever admit it out loud, maybe Ginevra was right and he could tell her as a proof of his trust in her and their friendship. However, he was also afraid. Not afraid that she would go and reveal his secret but that she would be disgusted and leave their friendship behind. After all she was his only friend._

 _Sighing deeply and holding her an arm's length away, he looked into her eyes as if looking for something. Seemingly finding what he was looking for, he simply said: "Follow me."_

 _Together they began walking into the direction of what was known as Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. The female ghost who resided in this particular bathroom was known for crying loudly at all times of the day and regularly flooding the whole floor with water from the toilets. Legend has it that she was a student roughly fifty years ago, who committed suicide in one of the bathroom stalls because she was bullied. If she had been as annoying in life as she was in death, Tom could not really fault people for not wanting to be friends with the girl. And really, who commits suicide and then decides that they don't want to die and come back as a ghost? A dichotomy._

 _When they reached the bathroom the tearful ghost was, thankfully, nowhere to be seen. Tom drew his wand and sealed the door. "Well this starts to look ominous.", Ginevra joked. "Ominous? No. But it is a secret. So before we proceed I would like to ask you to not talk about this with anybody, no matter your personal feelings on the matter."_

 _She gave him a long, hard look: "You should know by now that I am your friend and that I will always stand by you and keep your secrets.", She said this with so much conviction that Tom couldn't do anything else but believe her. With a nod he turned sharply to the sinks in the middle of the room and hissed quietly for them to open. They turned and twisted into the floor until only a circular hole remained, large enough for a person to go through.  
_

 _Ginevra gaped and blinked slowly. Once. Twice. "What the hell is this Tom?"_

 _"I will explain. But I would be more comfortable if we could have this conversation down there."_

 _"Down there?", Ginevra asked with a faint voice, "You want to jump into this random hole in the ground?"_

 _"Not random, no. I know where it leads to and have been down there before. In fact this is where I was yesterday."_

 _"It isn't on the map.", she murmured so quietly that Tom almost didn't catch her words. Louder, she asked: "Is this some kind of secret passage?"_

 _Tom smirked: "Yes, very secret.", when the silence stretched on for a while longer he asked: "Do you trust me, Ginevra?"_

 _His question seemed to break his companion out of some kind of stupor. She blew away a strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes and said: "Of course I do. But if I break my bones sliding down there I'll hex you until you don't know your name anymore.", then she took a few steps forward, seated herself on the hole and -like a true Gryffindor- sled fearlessly into the darkness. Tom started laughing quietly to himself, if she had waited just a moment he would have commanded the stairs to appear but alas... "Stairs.", he hissed, conjured a ball of light into his palm and started his descend into his ancestor's secret chamber. After a few steps he hissed at the sinks to close behind him._

 _"Seriously, there are stairs? And you let me slide down here. I'm soaked in things I don't even want to contemplate."_

 _"Well, you were very eager...", covered in green slime from the pipe, Ginevra made a rather humorous picture. With a wave of his wand Tom cleaned her robes and let the ball of light float from his hand to hover above them. Turning slowly, taking in the damp and dark tunnel, she asked: "Where are we? And were does this lead to?"_

 _"All in good time. Follow me, it isn't far."_

 _Silently the two started a trek down the tunnel, occasionally water splashed around their ankles where the tunnels had been flooded in the past. Tom assumed they were under the lake, the many pipes leading from and to the tunnel strengthening his theory since the Hogwarts plumbing system led into the lake. After a while Ginevra decided to break the silence: "So how did you find this place?"_

 _"I looked for it."_

 _She rolled her eyes: "Could you be any more cryptic? Because...", she cut of abruptly, coming face to face with several feet long Basilisk skin. The Basilisk had left the skin out there when it had still been growing and Tom had every intention of using it. Partly for his own potions projects and partly for the money. The prices places such as Borgin & Burkes would pay for this were tremendous. "What is this?", Ginevra's voice had reached a rather worrying high pitch._

 _"I will explain everything when we arrive."_

 _"Arrive where? Tom this is getting really scary."_

 _But they had finally reached the entrance to the main chamber. Once again Tom gave a hissed command and the snakes adorning the door slithered out of the way. When the hole opened Tom stepped through and offered Ginevra his hand to step through after him. The chamber stretched out before them, on both sides stone snake statues stood silent vigil and greenish flames on torches along the wall gave the whole chamber a viridescent glow. On the other end the statue of Salazar Slytherin towered eternally over his chamber. Ginevra took in the picture before them with wide eyes and an open mouth. She soundlessly moved her lips a few times and finally turned to Tom, the urge for answers clear on her face._

 _With a solemn voice Tom said: "Welcome to the Chamber of Secrets, Ginevra."_

 _"... the Chamber of Secrets...", she echoed faintly._

 _"Are you familiar with the legend behind the Chamber of Secrets?"_

 _"Roughly. Doesn't it say that after having a disagreement with the other Founders about admitting Muggle-born students and leaving Hogwarts, Slytherin built this secret chamber and left a monster behind? Until his heir would return, control the monster and purge the school of those students he considered unworthy of learning magic?"_

 _"While the account written in 'Hogwarts a History' is heavily biased against Slytherin and does not consider contemporary politics, such as witch hunts and the rising of the Christian religion, it accurately portraits the main facts: Slytherin built a secret chamber containing a beast and only his descendants would be able to control it."_

 _Tom was basically able to see how Ginevra's mind filtered and ordered the information provided. She was clever and would sooner or later come to the right conclusion, the question nagging at Tom was how she would react to it."_

 _Slowly, enunciating every word carefully, she asked: "Do you mean to tell me that you... are the heir of Slytherin?"_

 _He was unable to curb his enthusiasm. A grin stretched across his face and a glint became visible in his eyes. His voice had taken a husky undertone when he answered: "I am. My mother, she was a Gaunt. At first I was sure she couldn't have been a witch because she died in childbed,", speaking of his mother still produced twin feelings of anger and betrayal -she had magic after all, she could have lived... and he wouldn't be living in an orphanage-, "but then I looked up my middle name. Marvolo. And I found one Marvolo Gaunt in some old editions of the Daily Prophet, went to Azkaban for hexing a local muggle or something, and he had two children: a boy and a girl. The girl simply had to be my mother: the age matches and the caretakers at the orphanage always told me that she said my middle name was after my grandfather. Then I looked up the Gaunts. Turns out they hadn't attended Hogwarts for generations, thus I couldn't find anything substantial in the school records. However, the book on the Sacred-Twenty-Eight provided interesting insight: the Gaunts were known for being the last direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin."_

 _During his explanation Tom began pacing around Ginevra, whose eyes were transfixed on his face, listening intently to his story, his greatest success. "Having read 'Hogwarts a History' I naturally was aware of the legend surrounding the Chamber of Secrets. And I was determined to find it. I am the heir after all. Admittedly, it took me a long time but just before Christmas I was finally successful. Old construction records showed, that one Cornivius Gaunt helped install the plumbing system at Hogwarts in the 19th century. He seemed rather secretive and focused on the very bathroom we came from. So I took a look around and found the chamber, I am probably the first since Cornivius Gaunt himself, maybe even since Salazar himself, since I have reason to believe that nobody had entered the chamber since its construction."_

 _Silence permeated the air around them. Tom stood still, spine stiff and expression unreadable. Ginevra gazed absently into nothing, before turning to him, her features wary and her muscles tense. "And how were you be able to open the chamber?... I mean your deductions were very clever but people have been looking for the chamber for generations... I know you don't particularly like him, but even Dumbledore has looked for the chamber and he would have been clever enough to come to the same conclusions as you did..."_

 _Tom nodded. "Indeed, I can admit this much. But tell me: What was Salazar Slytherin famous for?"_

 _"Err... speaking to snakes..."_

 _"Yes. It is a hereditary trait."_

 _Ginevra's eyes became impossibly wide, her mouth hung open and her face appeared eerily pale in the faint, greenish glow, accentuating every single freckle. "You... you are a Parselmouth?" It was something between a statement and a question._

 _"I am.", the underlying pride was clear in his words, "Always have been. The garden snakes back at the orphanage, they came to me, they whispered to me. And it is the best defence against intruders, the chamber can only be opened by using Parseltongue."_

 _"So... the noises you made when the sinks opened and the door... that was Parseltongue?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"Oh."_

 _'Oh.'? That was all she had to say about this? 'Oh.'? He could not observe her face, a curtain of long red hair shielded it from view. Her head was bowed and she did not seem inclined to speak. She could be angry, disgusted, afraid... all emotions he was familiar with, they were often directed at him, especially before he came to Hogwarts, but never from her. The thought of her having those feelings for him now made him irrationally angry. 'It was a mistake,', he thought, 'I should not have told her. I knew I shouldn't have.' With great effort Tom got a tight grip on his composure and started to break the silence in an overly detached voice: "If you feel uncomfortable now, here or with my presence in general, allow me to escort you back up and I will do my best to keep my distance from now on. I only implore you to keep this secret. I can assure you I have no intention of starting a murderous rampage."_

 _His words broke her out of the trance she had slipped into. Her eyes rolled, like she was praying for patience. "Of course, I am not uncomfortable. You have to admit, though, that this was quite the revelation. Just give me some time to digest it.", suddenly a small smile twisted her lips and she shook her head in fond exasperation, "My best friend is the heir of Slytherin. At least that proves that being a git is in your blood. And don't believe I forgot that you didn't tell me that you are a Parselmouth until now. Did you think it would bother me?", her smile turned cheeky, "One would think that if your sunny disposition didn't drive me away, this wouldn't neither."_

 _Disbelievingly Tom asked: "This doesn't bother you at all?"_

 _"Oh, it does. Now your ego got even more inflated than before. But aside from that, no.", her tone softened somewhat, "I am happy for you. It's clearly important to you and you are proud. I get it. And you told me... so this means you trust me, don't you?"_

 _"I do.", Tom breathed out in wonder. This was... great. He felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he was finally able to breathe properly again. It was infuriating. He had steeled himself for rejection and then Ginevra was full of acceptance and shared pride for him and this only made him realise how strongly he had craved her approval, her support. She made him feel things that he despised and cherished in equal measure. It was annoying but he did not want to let it go.  
_

 _"The Gaunts... does this mean you have still family out there?"_

 _He sighed. "I don't know. Possibly, I did not dig further but it is reasonable to assume that at least Marvolo's son might still be alive."_

 _"Will you look for him?"_

 _"I don't know.", his voice turned bitter, "It is not as if they have made any attempts to contact or find me. But if they are alive... maybe they can tell me something about my father." He looked down, this was a subject he did not like to think, let alone speak about. It always made him angry and confused. Feelings he did not like, he valued his control. Tom looked up when he felt two delicate hands slip into his, squeezing them lightly, and locked his gaze with Ginevra's._

 _"Maybe...", she started hesitatingly, "they did not know about you. Maybe they did. But either way... I think this may offer you closure."_

 _He barked out a humourless laugh. "When I was young I used to think my father would come for me and pick me up from the orphanage. Tell me that he had been looking for me and that he would take me home. As the years passed and it became increasingly clear that this would not happen, I told myself that I did not need, did not want a family. When other children were adopted I sneered because I did not need a family. I was stronger than them. I could look after myself alone. Then I was told I was a wizard and my desire to find my father had been rekindled. Imagine my disappointment when I could not find a trace of him in my research and then it turns out my mother was a witch. A descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself.", his voice had risen in anger by that point, "And she died. Died and left me in a fucking muggle orphanage. She could have saved herself with magic, could have gone to St. Mungo's... but no, she died... and left me... with nothing!" He was positively screaming now, and it felt cathartic. This thoughts and feelings had been buried inside him for years, slowly devouring him. During his rant Ginevra hadn't let go of his hands. Panting heavily he looked back down at her face again and was struck by surprise when he saw the tears slipping down her cheeks._

 _"You are crying.", he stated hollowly._

 _"Maybe they did not know about you and will be happy once they find out. Maybe they did know and just choose to ignore your existence. If they did, it is their loss because you are strong. The strongest and most intelligent person I know. You will do great things in life, I am sure of it. And you already have a family. Me! And the blond ponce I reckon. We will be with you, even if we are not connected by blood. But we are your family."_

 _Tom's chest ached. But it was a sweet ache, accompanied by a terrific warmth spreading through him like Fire Whiskey. He had to gulp a few times because his throat and nose burned. And his eyes felt suspiciously wet. He blinked rapidly. Then looked down to their intertwined hands._

 _"Thank you Ginevra.", he did not have the words but she understood him. Always had. She knew what he wanted to say with these three words. A lengthy speech was not required between the two of them._

 _One of his hands went to her face and his fingers brushed her tears away. A lazy, content smile spread across his face. When he spoke again his voice was full of teasing and mischief. "Aren't you curious about Slytherin's monster?"_

 _"M-monster? That's true? What is it? Where is it?"_

 _With the hand in which he still held one of hers, he gently pulled her along towards the statue of Salazar. Positioning them in front of it, directly under the mouth he instructed: "Close your eyes." She did. Without hesitation._

 _"Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.", he hissed in Parseltongue._

 _When he hissed he felt Ginevra's hand in his twitch and then tighten its grip on his own. Slowly the gliding of scales was heard from the now open mouth of the statue and with a dull thud the Basilisk descended onto the chamber's floor._

 _After instructing the beast to keep his eyes closed and to not attack Ginevra, under any circumstances, he whispered in English: "Open your eyes."_

 _"Fuck!", she mouthed, "That's a basilisk. A fucking basilisk. And you can control it?"_

 _"Yes. It was bred by Slytherin himself and trained to obey his heirs. Under my command it is completely harmless."_

 _She laughed a bit hysterically, "... harmless... you sound like Hagrid... next you want me to pet it..."_

 _A bit miffed at the comparison he said: "In fact you can. Snakes like to be scratched actually."_

 _"You are kidding."_

 _"No, go on."_

 _Tentatively, Ginevra stretched out a hand and began to scratch the green scales on the basilisk's bowed head. Said basilisk hissed in content._

 _"What did it say?"_

 _"Nothing, it's purring, like a cat."_

 _Comfortable silence settled around them, while Ginevra stroked the basilisk and Tom held her hand. Suddenly, her shoulders started shaking, then she was giggling, then laughing uproariously. Tom looked at her and raised one eyebrow in a silent demand for an explanation._

 _"It's... gasp... just... now you can tell girls that you have a giant snake."_

 _"Really, Ginevra, really?"_

* * *

Breakfast at the Malfoy's, Tom had learned over the years, could easily rival meals at Hogwarts. A great variety of dishes was on display, coffee, tea, juice and milk rounding up the arrangement. All was neatly arranged on porcelain plates, adorned with polished silverware.

Lucius sat at the head of the table, the Daily Prophet -the headline already screaming about the Lestranges- spread out in front of him, next to a few letters, no doubt from his various associates in the Wizengamot. Obviously word of the Lestranges' escape had already reached the most influential people. Beneath the words of concern undoubtedly expressed in the letters, were questions pertaining politics. All members of the conservative faction of the Wizengamot, mostly the patriarchs of old pure-blood families, needed to plan their next move in the political dance. With a militant movement on the rise, they needed to simultaneously distance themselves and twist the crimes to their advantage. The question was: how were they going to achieve that?

On Lucius' left, sat Narcissa, daintily sipping tea from a porcelain cup. Draco, on Lucius' right, cut his omelette into small pieces, glancing every so often at his father. Tom chewed thoughtfully on his own selection of fruit salad. It would be useful to know in advance which steps the conservatives would take. During their acquaintance Tom had learned, however, that Lucius tended to speak without further incentive, if one exhibited enough patience. It was a lesson, Draco hadn't learned apparently.

"Father, what do your letters say?"

Stony-faced, Lucius looked at his heir, as if silently asking why his son was such a disappointment when it came to subtlety.

"Mostly they express their condolences on the Lestranges' escape and their writers' concerns for our well-being. Apparently, news of last night's incident has reached our community already."

Draco snorted. Tom understood the sentiment. Of course the news had already reached everyone and their mothers. The Ministry was about as discreet as Rita Skeeter and had about as many holes as a Swiss cheese. It was something he had to change when he came into power. Along with the raging corruption and nepotism. Not that he was adverse to these concepts on principle if they could put competent and loyal workers into the right position. Unfortunately, the Ministry was run by incompetent fools who only cared about the Galleons in their pockets and nothing for the advancement of wizarding society. Minister Fudge was a prime example of this. Thus, Tom's plan to have Lucius run for the next election promised to be rather successful. And when Lucius was Minister he would need a competent Undersecretary. And when Lucius' tenure as Minister was over, said Undersecretary would have integrated himself deeply into politics and the administration. It certainly didn't hurt that he had already made a name for himself as a genius and investigator extraordinaire. And with the backing of his numerous and influential acquaintances... yes, Tom's plans were coming along nicely. Slughorn would be right, the old man always said that Tom would be Minister of Magic before he reached thirty. He could not afford, however, that the conservatives blundered now.

He smirked at Lucius. "I believe what Draco was meant to ask was: Do you already have a common plan on how to proceed in the Wizengamot?"

Lucius sighed, letting his mask slip around the people he trusted, suddenly looking rather tired. "As of now the consensus is that it would be beneficial to meet some of the demands of this extremist groups in the hopes that it will take away reasons they have for their discontent."

Draco frowned. "Appeasement?"

Lucius nodded and leaned forward in his seat, more animated now, that his son had grasped the idea so quickly. "Indeed. The idea is that we can realise some of our long held demands by implying that many extremists will surely cease their criminal endeavours, if some isolationist laws against muggles and muggle-borns can be passed. Nothing extreme... but ideas like disallowing muggles into public wizarding places like Diagon Alley... vows of silence for muggle-borns to not expose our world to their muggle families... things like that."

Well, this strategy was not very well thought of, in Tom's humble opinion. Judging the crease of Draco's eyebrows, his friend agreed. Tom felt a sudden stab of pride for the young Malfoy. He had come a long way and seemed to understand the complexities and intricate dances of the political scene better every day.

"But father... isn't this strategy liable to failure?"

With a wave of his hand the elder Malfoy encouraged Draco to continue. Apparently this was turning into a lesson for his friend. Sitting back, Tom exchanged a quick glance with Narcissa over the table. Amusement shone in her eyes, clearly she had also picked up on what her husband was up to.

Draco cleared his throat. "Well, first of all the opposition will spin this into their favour. The assailants are pure-bloods, fighting for blood-supremacy, against muggle-borns. Surely they will argue that muggle-borns and their families need more protection and inclusion now than before. They will try to implement laws going directly against our ideas. Furthermore, they can argue that the militants are terrorists and that our government does not show weakness by conforming with them. There is also the possibility that many old families will be under scrutiny and suspicion, questions will be asked if they are part of this movement. Not to mention the obvious futility of appeasement when dealing with head cases like the Lestranges."

Lucius smiled at his son, a real warm smile. Pride shone in his eyes. Draco puffed up his chest, sensing his father's approval. Narcissa looked on with a slight smile and fondness in her gaze. When Tom had first observed these interactions between the three Malfoys, he had been bewildered, now he understood the dynamic, the love and loyalty hidden beneath their cold and distant public personas. As touching as this scene was, it did not change the fact that the conservatives were about to shoot a political Diffindo at their own feet. And this would not only be a setback for Lucius' ambitions but also, by extension, Tom's.

"If you realise the futility and possible damage this course of action can bring, you surely don't plan to go along with this, Lucius?"

"I am afraid I will have to.", Lucius appeared to be genuinely disgruntled, "Most members of the conservative faction have already agreed on this course of action. I fear I can not sway them. And I can not act independently if I want their support and favour in the future."

Tom understood. The conservatives were Lucius' power base in the Wizengamot. He could not afford to lose their backing. And most of them were led by their impatience rather than by their rational minds. For years they had fought and argued for stronger isolation and now they were jumping at the first opportunity presented to them, even if it would most likely turn to their disadvantage very fast. Also, it wasn't unreasonable to assume that some of them sympathised with the movement or were even members.

"Well, we have to wait and see.", interjected Narcissa, "As unsatisfying as it is. Maybe if my sister, her husband and her brother in-law are caught quickly, the whole situation may be salvaged."

Dissatisfied silence settled over the occupants of the table until Narcissa decided to pick up another thread of conversation. "Your colleague, Miss Weasley, she is a fine young woman, is she not?"

Tom hummed in agreement.

"Tell me, Tom, wouldn't you agree that she would be very compatible to yourself. I, personally, think you two would make a great couple. You would need a strong woman to keep up with you and according to Draco, Miss Weasley has been your faithful friend for years."

Draco gaped at his mother. If he disagreed with his mother's assessment of Tom and Ginevra as more than friends or if he was simply incredulous that she spoke so frankly with Tom, was unclear. When he answered, Tom enunciated every word slowly: "Yes. We are friends." Emphasis on the word 'friends'.

Appearing uncomfortable with the current line of conversation, Lucius busied himself with a cup of coffee. His wife's next words, however, made him choke on his beverage.

"Did you know, Tom...", Narcissa asked lightly, "that Draco had a terrible crush on you when you were in fourth grade? All his letters only spoke about you. I fear he wasn't very discreet."

Naturally he had known. The poor boy had been painfully obvious in his affection. Fortunately, Draco had regained his footing in fifth year and had only been with girls since then, as far as Tom knew.

"Mother!", Draco squeaked and spluttered, "Is this really necessary?"

"Oh, Draco. It has been some years ago. And we are among family...", she trailed off.

Face burning red, the young Malfoy attempted to regain his dignity. "I was a teen. I was bound to be... confused... in my sexuality. And by Merlin, never mention this to Astoria."

Tom chuckled slightly and asked in a teasing voice: "So you don't see me this way anymore? Why, I am hurt."

"No.", Draco replied in a firm voice, "I see you as a brother now."

Tom was strangely touched by this admission. A warm feeling tingled in his stomach. Uncomfortable by the scene unfolding at his dining table, Lucius decided to hide behind the Daily Prophet. Narcissa smiled indulgently.

"The reason I mentioned this, was not to humiliate you, Draco.", her voice became stern, "Draco's little crush on you only shows that you can charm and evoke feelings in the people around you with ease. I am confident that you can win Miss Weasley if you put your mind to it."

"But would I not do her a disservice if I charmed her? She is a real friend, I do not want to play with her."

"The question is: Would you be playing with her?"

"..."

"I think you'd better make up your mind soon, Tom. I think you would make a lovely couple but a such a fine young woman as Miss Weasley is bound to have other suitors."

A picture of Potter's clumsy attempt at asking Ginevra out for a drink flashed through Tom's mind. It left him... unsettled.

Later, Tom and Draco walked through the long hallways of the manor, towards their rooms. The guest room Tom had first slept in when he had first stayed at the Malfoys, had slowly transformed into Tom's room. Fatigue and thoughts on politics and a certain redhead kept Tom silent. When Draco bid him goodnight or rather good day, Tom stopped him.

"Wait... Draco, did you mean it? What you said earlier... about seeing me as your brother?"

A wide grin nearly split Draco's face into half. "Of course... a scary, demanding, domineering, manipulative and sometimes cruel brother... but a brother.", he shrugged, "I always wanted one when I was a child and now I have you."

"... I appreciate it...", faced with such genuine sentiment Tom felt uncomfortable but also strangely light.

Draco only laughed. He supposed the blond knew him well enough by now, to have anticipated his reaction.

"Sleep well."

"You too Draco."

* * *

Ginny could honestly say that she despised most politicians. But this Avery, this guy evoked a whole knew level of disdain in her. Arrogant, stuck-up and full of pure-blood bullshit. She asked herself what he was even doing at the meeting. Okay, he was the Wizengamot's representative for Law Enforcement, but really... wasn't there someone less... like him?

The SHD, Scrimgeour, Bones and, unfortunately, Avery had a meeting to discuss the threat posed by the Lestranges and the possibility of a militant group forming out there. As always, Madame Bones was calm, logically and reasonable. Scrimgeour, the ass, clearly wanted to load the fault for the Lestranges' escape onto them. "The SHD was responsible for them.", "...why are they not caught yet?...", "...what is the use of spending extra money on a special unit if said unit can not fulfil their basic function...".

Clearly the guy felt threatened by them and by Tom's zeal, especially. It was laughable. If Tom wanted his job, he could have it faster than Scrimgeour could say 'Quidditch'. Ginny hid a small grin behind her hand. If only the old Auror knew that Tom's ambitions were far loftier. In a few years Tom would be his boss. And judging the look on her friend's face, Scrimgeour would find himself without one by then. Pity. But his countless attempts at undermining their work had left her without any compassionate feelings for the Head of the Auror Department.

Scrimgeour's drivel, however, paled in comparison to the bullshit Avery sprouted.

"Clearly the events at Malfoy Manor show, that the fugitive and their associates are a danger for the old and noble families. Therefore, I strongly demand that measures are implemented to protect them."

"And what do you suggest, Mr. Avery?", Madame Bones' voice was laced heavily with disbelief and suppressed sarcasm.

"For instance Auror surveillance for their homes."

Moody snorted. "Sure Avery. And how do you propose we catch the Lestranges then? With all Aurors guarding private homes?"

"When they show up of course. Clearly pure-blood families are their target. Catch them in the act, so to speak."

"You have conveniently forgotten the muggle-borns we freed from the dungeons under the Lestranges' home, Avery. Where they were tortured and murdered.", Moody barked back.

The discussion went downhill from there.

While Avery, Moody and Scrimgeour shouted at each other, with interventions from Bones and the rest of their team, Ginny turned to Tom. Her friend appeared to be deep in thought. Probably imagining all the gruesome ways he could hex Scrimgeour and Avery. She was not blind to her friend's approval with some of the pure-blood ideology. Of course it was a bit hypocritical of him but she could also understand where he came from. At the moment he was probably more concerned with Avery's idiocy pertaining his political agenda than with the whole aspect of what should be considered right and humane. While he did want to catch the Lestranges, if only because of his pride and hubris, he would also like for the conservatives to gain something, politically speaking. Maybe it should bother her but she found that she agreed with many ideas Tom had discussed with her for their society and she wholeheartedly believed that Tom would make a great Minister of Magic. Better than Fudge at any rate. Not that this was difficult. Filch would be better than Fudge.

Sometimes she wondered what her family and friends would say if they knew her thoughts. They tended to see the world in strictly black and white, while she liked to think of it in shades of grey. Her family despised the Dark Arts on principle, whereas she saw the use for the community in some of them. Had even used some of them, under Tom's guidance. Her friends and family loved all things muggle. Her father was fascinated by their technology and talked about them like one would talk about especially clever pets. Harmless and entertaining. But for all his love for muggle technology, her father didn't know about the ugly aspects of their technology. Nuclear weapons. Drones. Bombs. Their perpetual state of war. And if the magical world would be exposed to the muggles they would not react with happiness and fascination but with envy and greed. The Statue of Secrecy was established for a reason. Not that she thought these character traits were exclusively muggle. They were part of human nature, sadly. But there were so many more muggles than wizards in the world that any conflict, especially fought with terrifying muggle weaponry, would lead to a resounding defeat of witches and wizards. Thus, to her mind it was only logical to hide their world from them to avoid any sort of conflict.

Unlike many pure-bloods she did not think that muggle-blood tainted magic in any way or that muggles were no better than animals. Backwards and primitive. She had been to the muggle world, often in fact. Ottery-St.-Catchpole was populated by muggles after all. And her friends Hermione, Colin and Tom had introduced their world to her. She was convinced that many advancements the muggles made should be also introduced to wizarding society and not be rejected or ignored on principle...

Ginny was thrown out of her thoughts by chairs scraping and people getting up around her. While she was musing over muggles and wizards, the meeting was concluded. A real conclusion had not been reached. They would of course try to catch the Lestranges or any accomplices the might have. Avery was a dick and would try to push his ridiculous ideas through the Wizengamot. And Tom... was strangely silent.

"What are you thinking."

"It is just a feeling... but I think there is more to the whole case than it seems. The Lestranges' escape with help from within the Ministry, their sign, the guaranteed political unrest. And the Dark Mark above Malfoy Manor. It does not make sense. I fell like there are pieces missing to the whole puzzle."

"I agree.", the same thoughts were on her mind, too. It was unsettling, feeling like you were missing key aspects and that your opponent could blind side you at any given moment.

"We'd best be prepared for any eventuality, Ginevra."

Well, that sounded foreboding.

* * *

 _The Burrow, Christmas 1996  
_

 _He was standing in the scorching sun. The air was humid, the birds and various insects making noise. A small village sat in the valley below him. The wooden sign on his right read: 'Little Hangleton 5 miles'._

 _He had taken the train from London and walked the rest of the way. His crisp, white shirt stuck to his skin between his shoulder blades. Nobody at the orphanage would miss him; he doubted his absence would be noticed. His research into his family had finally yielded results. Marvolo. The Gaunt family. The chamber. And maybe they still lived here and maybe they could also give him information about his father._

 _He licked his lips and tasted salt. The gravel path led to a row of overgrown hedges. Behind them he found the shack, nothing more than a barn. This couldn't be it, surely. But there was a snake nailed to the door._

 _He met Morfin. His uncle. Disgusting, mad cretin. Attacking him. Babbling incoherently. But then: "You look mightily like the muggle. Riddle. Lives in the mansion on the hill. Ran away with my sister, the little blood-traitor." Rage. His vision turned red._

 _He stunned Morfin and took his wand. And he went to the Riddle house. Such luxury. They have dinner. His grandmother. His grandfather. And his father. "She hoodwinked me!" They were afraid. They knew that he would come one day._

 _"If it is money you want..."_

 _"No, I want retribution."_

 _Retribution for the orphanage. For the poverty. The indignity. His mother._

 _"My mother was a direct descendant of the great Salazar Slytherin. Muggle scum like you is not even worth the dirt underneath her feet."_

 _He took a deep breath. And he raised the wand he had stolen from his uncle and..._

 _Omph. For a moment he thought he was still in the dining room of the Riddles. But something fluffy was on his face. And the air smelled like food and flowers. Just a dream. It was just a dream. Since the summer he dreamed of the events that happened back then nearly every night. It was maddening._

 _"Good morning, sleepy head."_

 _Ginevra. Of course, he had agreed to spend Christmas at her family home. She had been so exited and happy when he agreed to it that it seemed like a good idea. This was before she had hit him in the face with a pillow. And before he realised that her whole family would be spending Christmas at the Burrow. Meaning all her brothers. It was bound to be loud, crowded and obnoxiously cheerful. If he wanted to come out of this with his sanity intact, he would need to rediscover the boundaries of his patience. And forget about the dream. What was done was done._

* * *

 **Thank you. I would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. I will be sticking to updating every two weeks because it simply fits better with real life events and allows me to write longer and more substantial chapters.  
**

 **Chapter 4: A Date? will be up on the 26th of February (Sunday).**


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